Snapshots
by UKHoneyB
Summary: One hundred snapshots of the life of Allison Shepard, ranging from childhood all the way up to before joining the crew of the Normandy. A life told in 100k words in abstract chronology.
1. Introduction

A/N: Inspired by a number of random prompt sites, including 100Themes over at deviantART which is where the main prompts for this came from. This is, on the whole, an exercise in developing Allison Shepard's pre-Normandy backstory ahead of my Mass Effect series expansion fics (yes, plural) as well as getting me into a regular writing habit.

Probably not necessary information: Allison Shepard, Spacer/War Hero, Vanguard. A whole mess of original characters. Liberal sprinklings of creative license. These are not in any kind of chronological order, and rated for language, sex, and bloody/gory violence...basically, anything canon in the games can be assumed to also appear here. 100 1k (approximately; certainly no less but some may be more) word chapters.

**001. Introduction**

_Date: September 2170_

Allison gritted her teeth tightly as she walked the corridors of the high school - new school again, fifth in two years, seven months - instead focusing her attention on the sole purpose of finding the principal's office. The new school year had started a week ago, her mum dropping her off outside the gates with nary more than goodbye, have fun, don't get into trouble.

She hefted a sigh and turned to glare as one teen boy started laughing - at her or just coincidentally as she walked by, she didn't care. His grin only faded when she turned her head, the nape of her neck facing him, Allison almost daring him with that movement.

Go ahead, I'm a biotic.

Try me.

She was almost tempted to reach a hand up, pull her hair out of the high ponytail she'd meticulously put it in an hour ago. To do that was to surrender, to back down, to hide away from a world that treated biotics with suspicion at best.

The laughter stopped, replaced almost immediately with whispers. Allison turned a corner, the sound fading only to be replaced by looks from more students, more new people. She tuned them all out, ignored them, focused on walking the path to the principal's office.

Up a set of stairs and halfway down the hallway, oddly devoid of people, the principal's office was behind a heavy-set wooden door. There was no receptionist nearby, no one for Allison to go up to and ask about the principal; after a full minute of debating she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A short number of seconds later footsteps sounded, someone hurrying to the door, and it was yanked open.

A woman with dark, close-cropped curly hair looked up at Allison, a blank expression on her face until recognition clicked in a few seconds later.

"Miss Shepard?" the woman asked, and Allison nodded. "Sorry, we weren't expecting you today. Come in."

Allison frowned at that, but obeyed as the woman - the principal, Ms Winters -beckoned her in, shutting the door behind the two of them when Allison had stepped far enough away.

"I have your records here from your last high school," Ms Winters said, settling down behind her desk and adjusting the console screen slightly. Allison sat down opposite, placing her bag down. The side facing Allison was dimmed and obscured, ensuring no one could read the information. Winters typed on the keyboard, eyes flicking across and scanning information. She paused and Allison instantly knew what information she had just read.

"Your records show that you were expelled in late April and this is your first return to an educational institution. Care to elaborate?"

"You've got all the details there, I'm sure," Allison said, waving her hand dismissively. Maybe a little too flippantly given the situation. "Or are you wanting to hear my side of the story?"

Winters pushed the monitor away, resting her forearms on the desk and entwining her fingers. The woman looked at Allison with light blue eyes that held such intensity Allison could almost feel herself shrinking under the gaze.

"This is a rather small school, as you no doubt noticed. We have never had a biotic student in these halls until now. You're a day student rather than a boarder, but we still need to be as cautious about your...abilities."

Allison held back a scowl, forced her hand to stay still instead of going up to the back of her neck to fiddle with her amp.

"I've got them under control," Allison finally said to the principal. "L3, stable, confirmed from a million and one docs. Only difference between me and a kid down the hall is that I can manipulate gravity with my mind."

Winters stayed still, keeping her piercing gaze fixed on Allison.

"Look, that kid I punched, back at my old school? Sure, I dislocated his jaw, I punched him, I own up to that. Doesn't mean I'm dangerous."

"That's up for me to decide," Winters said finally, moving back to her prior position. "Consider yourself on probation for the rest of your time here."

"_Permanent_ probation?"

"Be glad I'm choosing to allow you to educate yourself at this school at all." Winters' harsh expression was back. "I'm surprised you're not blacklisted and dragged off to a psychiatric hospital. I'm sure you've been keeping up with the news."

"I have."

"Then I needn't warn you about what the public's perception of biotics are. You can't afford any more mistrust on your head, especially not while you're here."

Allison scowled and shifted in her seat, trying to figure out where this was all going. Winters sighed and her pose and expression relaxed. She turned to her left and picked up a standard-issue data pad, tapping on it a couple of times before handing it over to Allison.

"That's your schedule for this semester. We'll get you an account set up so you can access your schoolwork and discussion boards, and also a school mail account."

Allison quickly scrolled through her schedule, seeing nothing too onerous on it. All the expected classes, the ones she hadn't been able to complete on her own time outside of school. Sciences that required lab work and phys ed, mainly.

"We've assigned another student to you, Finn Osmani. He'll help you around the school, answer questions you might have."

"Got it," Allison said, slipping the data pad into her bag and picked the bag up. She was halfway to slinging it on her back, one-shouldered, when Winters spoke again.

"Behave yourself here."

Allison gave a short, curt nod and made her way out of the principal's office. Unlike earlier, there were a few people milling around, the looks on the faces and the way they moved indicating that they were on their way to class.

A teen boy slouched casually against the wall opposite the office, moving to stand up when Allison shut the door behind her. His dark hair flopped down into his bright blue eyes as he moved, his hand almost continually going up to move it out of the way.

"Finnegan Osmani. Call me Finn," he said once he was close enough, holding a hand out. Allison took it and gave a brief shake before she pulled back. "You're that new kid, right?"

"I am," Allison said, turning and looking around. "I hear you're my chaperone."

Finn laughed. "That's one way of putting it. Hey, rumours going around; you _are_ a biotic, right?"

"Sure am," Allison said, turning back to look at Finn with a cool glare. "You gonna make something of it?"

"Nope." Finn grinned. "My lil sis is a biotic, she'll love to meet you."

Allison smiled herself.

Maybe introductions weren't going to be so bad.


	2. Falling

**002. Falling**

_Date: October 2179_

Allison's gasp was cut short as something slammed into her, winding her despite the layers of armour she had on. Static buzzed through her comm. and she was twisting, turning. The surface of Acaeria spiralled above, below, above, below, disappearing from view and then reappearing in a matter of seconds, the only focus point anywhere.

"-Shepard, you read me?"

Allison gasped again, thinking a thankful thought that the comm. seemed to be back online. A sharp yank around her stomach told her that her safety line had reached its limit, although it did nothing for the endless spiral she was in.

"I read you."

"What's your status?"

_Falling. If I were on a planet._ "Spinning. At the limit of my safety line."

"What happened?"

_Hell if I know._ "Wing walk. Checking status from impact. Next thing I knew magrav failed and I'm spinning out into space."

"Can you focus yourself?"

"I'll try."

"No trying."

Allison concentrated, trying to get her fingers the flexibility she would have without armour, or even with the light planetside armour she was used to. After the third fumble she felt a biotic field lock and her spinning began to slow before it eventually stopped.

"I'm stable," Allison said, looking around. A few chunks of a small asteroid were still scattered around, a couple skipping off the kinetic barrier of the _Shenyang_. Allison managed to quickly get a barrier up before some of the asteroid debris could skitter into her.

"Why are there even asteroids around here? Ondeste doesn't even have them."

"Could be a slow rotation. Could be they were knocked out here centuries ago and are only just arriving."

Allison muttered some curses under her breath, looking around. She dropped her barrier when nothing seemed to be heading immediately towards her, and she turned and grabbed her line to pull herself back in. When she was firmly nestled back against the ship, its kinetic barrier extending to her as well, she did a check of her systems.

"Magrav out of power, that explains the failure." Allison grimaced. She'd checked them before the walk and they were at full power. "All other systems running fully functional."

"Good. We need to get you back in. I'm sending a rescue out."

[ - ]

Allison yanked her helmet off at the first instance she could do so, eyes glancing around the airlock. Service Chief Rascón had been sent out to escort her back in, and he was looking at her cautiously, his helmet still on but his visor cycled open. She took a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes after the second, and stilled after the fifth.

"I'm fine, Rascón," Allison said. "Good actions out there."

Rascón seemed to brighten a little at that. "Thank you, ma'am."

Allison pulled a hand out of a glove and wiped it across her forehead. "As you were, Chief."

Rascón nodded and stepped off into the crowds of the cruiser. Allison allowed herself a short amount of time to rest against the bulkhead. The Crescent Nebula was on the fringes of the Terminus systems; just about part of asari space it would have been off limits for Alliance ships but someone wanted them to investigate. _Someone_ likely being a high-ranking asari.

Allison pushed away from the bulkhead, helmet swinging casually from her fingers. First thing, store her gear. Second, check her magrav boots. Third, check any injuries.

The ship's head doctor rounding the corner ahead of Allison put paid to those plans.

Allison put up no protest as the doctor caught her eye and wordlessly summoned her across the deck, down two levels, and into the med bay. Both Allison and the doctor remained silent as Allison stripped down to her underarmour, moved behind a curtain, and stripped off further.

Her side had already started blossoming a dark, painful-looking black, and the doctor took care palpating around the injury. Allison kept her focus on the opposite wall, mechanically reacting to requests; she kept up with required check-overs, went through examinations without fuss partly because she knew it was necessary and partly because the less she argued against it, the quicker it would be done and the sooner she'd be back on duty.

Within half an hour of stepping into the med bay, Allison was carrying her armour through the doors and across the deck to where her equipment locker was. She opened the biometric lock and almost tossed her armour in carelessly when she stopped and began to inspect it instead. There was no dent on the left side to mirror the bruise on her side, and aside from the malfunctioning magrav it all looked in order.

Allison carefully placed her armour back and closed her locker door. The check-up had taken her over her scheduled shift and all the others who had been scheduled for EVA were likely trickling back in. That meant crowds and chaos while _they_ all checked their armour, tried to make their way to their footlockers, leaving very little room for Allison to do herself.

She turned on her heel and headed up one deck to the staff quarters. Past shift change, most people there were settling in for the night, preparing for their next shift being a glorious eight hours away. Allison, however, had another idea.

"Anyone up for some Skyllian Five?"

[ - ]

The creak of her hardsuit, the hiss of air moving into her helmet...too many things were becoming too familiar. Her boots were heavy from the magrav in them, a spinning piece of debris hit her left side with enough force for her to notice it. This wasn't supposed to happen, _Normandy_ not to be left gutted like a fish, destroyed on a routine scan.

Less than five minutes later, Joker was on an escape pod jettisoned out into space, away from danger, and Allison was twisting, turning, tumbling into space. Her oxygen vented and she scrabbled in vain to try and block the hole.

She was falling in space, and there was no safety line to catch her this time.


	3. Do Not Disturb

**003. Do Not Disturb**

_Date: January 2173_

Allison inhaled deeply and held it for a good few seconds before exhaling. The cargo bay was empty, ship in port, and upwards of ninety-five percent of the crew were off enjoying the beginning of their shore leave at Arcturus before heading off to wherever they were planning.

She, however, was spending the first portion of her shore leave still on deck.

Allison flicked through her mnemonic for 'lift' - a simplistic word choice to cover the vast intricacies of what specifically occurred. The small hammer, nothing that would have looked out of place at any residential place, shifted slightly before dropping with a harsh clang onto the floor.

She held in her curses and walked over to where the hammer had fallen, carefully placing it back on the box it had started on. If she had wanted to, she could have created a lift that was large enough and powerful enough to raise the hammer, the box it rested on, and the box that the box rested on.

Power wasn't the result here; finesse was.

She resumed her prior post, ignoring the small stack of energy drinks and high-calorie snacks she'd snuck down with her. She focused once again on the hammer, being able to spot it halfway across the cargo bay. She repeated her breathing, repeated her mnemonic, and repeated the hammer clanging onto the floor.

Now the curses came, quiet and muttered, but they were there.

An hour later, Allison was wiping blood from her nose with a balled up tissue, free hand pressed against her forehead in an attempt to ward off a headache, the back of her neck tingling and the remnants of two snacks and an energy bar at her feet. She'd managed to lift the hammer all of half a foot in her best attempt before her control failed.

A sharp rap on the closed doors of the cargo bay drew Allison's attention, and she muttered yet another curse under her breath. For a split-second she debated the merits of ignoring the visitor, pretending the ship was empty, but she slipped off the crates she'd perched herself on and found her feet briskly taking her to the doorway before she could dismiss the thought.

"Sir," Allison said immediately upon opening the door and seeing who was there, snapping into a salute. Staff Commander Miles Richbow was a bear of a man, grizzled and haggard face etched with stories of decades of combat. He was also the CO of the _SSV Trafalgar_.

"At ease, Shepard," Richbow said, and Allison dropped her salute and slid into parade rest. He looked around the cargo bay, eyes travelling over the small stockpile of food before focusing back on Allison. "Flight Lieutenant Morina called shore leave for everyone three hours ago. Why are you still on board?"

"I-" Allison felt her cheeks heat up. This had been her first real posting on board an alliance vessel since passing basic and being the only biotic on board had been both isolating and annoying. If people weren't avoiding her they were either being overly-friendly or making snide remarks about her abilities and what she could and couldn't do - nothing relating to her actual skills and everything relating to myth and horror stories.

Richbow kept his gaze on Allison as he waited for a response. Allison broke first, dipping her head down and looking towards the floor.

"Testing my biotics, sir."

"And why would you be doing so when everyone else is on leave?"

A multitude of reasons rushed into Allison's head, but all of them battered away. None of them would have been good enough. She was embarrassed to use her biotics in front of others? It was a skill, use it. She was worried about unbalancing the ship? A good pilot would compensate, knowing that a biotic was practising. She didn't want to be disturbed? The military was the worst job for that.

Allison took a sigh and levelled her gaze with Richbow again, and gave all three reasons. He said nothing while she spoke, and nothing more for a good amount of time once she had finished. As the silence stretched on, Allison began to become concerned with what Richbow was thinking.

"I don't want to see you on this ship for a good while," Richbow said. "_Trafalgar_ is due to be in port for the next month for repairs and refits. For the next three weeks, I don't want to see any sign of you on board, nor do I want to be told about you sneaking on to the ship." He held up a hand to silence her as she began to make the motions of a protest.

Allison's eyes flickered as she ran over what he wasn't saying. "And for the last week?"

"I am giving you special dispensation to return to _Trafalgar_ early for training purposes. I shall inform the crew that you are to not be disturbed unless necessary until shore leave is officially over."

A small smile crept onto Allison's face before she could corral it back. "Thank you, sir."

"Better thanks will be for me to see your biotics in action." Richbow said nothing more, instead disappearing out of the cargo bay doors. Allison looked down to the mess of food and set about cleaning it up.

[ - ]

Redbow was true to his word; when Allison returned to _Trafalgar_ three weeks later her pass code for the ship worked, her sleeper pod was accessible, and the engineers paid her no heed. She had to arrange her own foods, but day after day the cargo bay was devoid of people, allowing herself to hole up with no questions, working on refining her biotics and stopping only when her body protested.

She was keenly aware of her limits, knowing not to push herself beyond her boundaries, but still pushed herself hard. When, after three days, she was able to pinpoint and move the hammer to her liking she turned to other items, other targets. By the time shore leave was over, she felt much more stable and certain of her abilities.


	4. Magic

**004. Magic**

_Date: Late September/Early October 2170_

When Finn had said he had a little sister, Allison had thought that she was two, maybe three years younger than the two of them. Someone old enough to have at least been considered for implant, not...ten years old.

Hanna had still greeted her excitedly, stories of Allison's actions and abilities preceding her in the way that only a story from an older brother would do. She'd asked about the story of Allison punching a boy, to which Allison threw a glare at Finn, only to get a shrug and an amused smile in return.

They'd messed around for a couple of hours, Finn and Hanna taking turns playing a beat-em-up game against Allison, before Finn had made his excuses for homework.

"I've been wondering," Hanna said when Finn was out of the room, turning upside down on the sofa she was sitting on. Allison, who had chosen to stay on the floor, looked over her shoulder. "What's bein' a biotic like?"

Allison frowned. "Aren't you one? Finn said you were."

Hanna pouted. "Yeah, but I can't do all of the cool stuff yet." She flicked her fingers out but nothing happened. "I'm plain old boring me. _You_ can do things, right?"

"Yeah," Allison said, hesitating. "I'm still learning though."

"What can you do?"

"Lift things. Nothing heavy, and not for too long, but I can move things." Allison cracked a smile. "Like telekinesis, I guess. Old style superheroes who can move things with their mind."

Hanna got an identical grin on her face. "Show me."

"All right." Allison unfolded from her position on the floor and looked around the living room. Sofas and chairs were much too heavy, as was the vid-screen, she wouldn't even dare suggest picking up another person...

Allison moved forwards, unplugging and disconnecting the games console. She placed it back down on the floor, a small black unobtrusive box, and took a few steps away.

She took a calming breath, trying to recall what Teria Nyxori had taught her, was still _trying_ to teach her. Her attitude and almost dismissal of Allison's attempts brought to mind thoughts of trying to train a chimpanzee in space magic.

Allison carefully walked through her mnemonic, mindful that Hanna was watching her every move intently. She focused on the games console, 'flinging' part of her corona towards her target. Despite its small size Allison hit it first attempt, and a flick up of her wrist began to reduce the gravity acting on the item, then neutralise it, then reverse it.

Hanna let out a delighted squeal, and seconds later Finn appeared in the room, looking wide-eyed at the object hanging in midair. Warmth began to trickle down from her nose and Allison grimaced; she wasn't used to holding something in mid-air, the targets Teria giving her simply intended to be flung off with force rather than kept steady.

"Someone grab it," Allison said, and Finn moved forwards. He pulled the console out of the air and Allison dropped her arm, relaxed her stance, wiped the blood from her nose. She noticed Hanna looking at her, wide-eyed.

"'S nothing," Allison said, holding the sleeve of her shirt against her nose and muffling her voice. "Not dangerous, just...you know how your arm hurts when you hit it? That's your body saying to be careful, you're injuring yourself. This?" Allison pulled her sleeve away, checking the amouint of blood on it."Same thing, but for biotics."

Allison looked over at Finn, who was still staring at where the console had been in amazement. The console itself was snug in his arms, cradled, and after a short spell he moved to place it back in its original place, hooking it back up as if everything had never happened. Even after he had done so and moved away, the three people in the room stayed silent.

Allison glanced over at the clock embedded in the wall, and muttered something under her breath. A half-started curse, cut short with a reminder that there was a ten year old in the room whose parents would _not_ be happy to hear her imitate phrasing and would _not_ be pleased to know who she had heard it from.

"Hey, Finn, sorry. Gotta jet. I promised my mom I wouldn't stay out late while she's away."

Finn smirked and leaned back against the wall, Allison's display of biotics almost forgotten. "Hey, who's gonna know?"

"Our clock-in system," Allison said, grabbing her bag and quickly throwing it over her shoulder. "I'm nowhere near techy enough to hack it."

"Guess you need a new friend." Finn's smirk turned even more devious, and despite herself Allison felt a mirror smile appear on her own face.

"Sorry Finn. Don't want to do anything else to risk my mom's wrath, even if she is almost half a galaxy away."

"At least let me walk back with you."

"And me!" Hanna piped up.

Allison chuckled. "All right. I guess you two can see where I live."

[ - ]

Opening the door, Finn and Hanna saw a prefab house that was almost identical to theirs in layout. The furniture and decorations were different, but if you walked in and took a left half-way down you were in the living room, continued all the way down you were in the kitchen, and upstairs was a three bed plus bath setup.

Allison tapped in her code to the clock-in system, keeping her body between it and any curious eyes. Not that she was that worried about Finn hacking into their system, but...good to be cautious.

"So, hey, I'll see you in Bio tomorrow?" Finn said by way of goodbye, and Allison nodded. Finn moved to walk back out the front door, but Hanna speaking made him stop short.

"Can you...teach me some of the stuff you're doing?"

"Not right now." Allison said. Even if Hanna did have an implant, she was nowhere near skilled enough to teach another biotic on her own.

"Oh." Hanna's face fell and she looked down at the ground. A soft nudge on her shoulder brought her attention back up to Allison.

"But I'll tell you what. When I _am_ able to teach you, I'll contact you and let you know everything I do. Until then-"

"You'll keep showing me what you can do?"

Allison shrugged and smiled. "Sure."


	5. Expectations

**005. Expectations**

_Date: August 2181_

Allison looked down at the notification that had appeared in her inbox that morning. Still and formal, the header and beginning of the mail itself had given no indication why she was being emailed by one of the ICT committee so long after the conclusion of their section of the N program.

She'd taken the slow road, opting to fill in her N classes (for lack of a better term) in between rotations and mainly when she found herself with a good amount of shore leave. Some people, those who had been really determined, could blast through the entirety of the N program in under a year of dedicated work.

For Allison, it had taken her four years to reach N6.

The recommendation letter for her had been filed a year after Elysium, and it had taken her a good couple of months' thought before she'd accepted. Elysium was a success in the eyes of the higher-ups, and the newly-commissioned officer and recipient of the Star of Terra had certainly proven her mettle many times over with her actions there.

Alliance brass wanted a hero of Elysium, and they got one.

They also wanted an N candidate, and they got one.

No one Allison had known personally had been invited into the N program, and as such her thoughts and expectations of it measured nothing. She had no hopes, no ideals to strive for, only the knowledge that it would be arduous.

She cleared her N1 qualification with a breeze, if one ignored the disagreement (as it had been noted) between her and a fellow N candidate. She had made it through, he hadn't, and was invited along to further ICT courses.

Allison had had no idea how many people were in the initial batch of recommendations, but by the time she was in active combat with an instructor watching her every move, noting her every action, listening to her every command, there were only six people aiming for N6 qualification. She couldn't let that news distract her, and she didn't. She worked her way through combat as she always did, her rank of Staff Lieutenant offering her respect and ensuring people would follow her orders. Being XO of the marine ground team also gave the instructor good insight into how she managed a team when the CO ordered the group to split up.

The mission - a simple one, all things considered, a pirate stronghold out in the Traverse - was her final assessment and when Allison and the rest of the ground crew returned the instructor had said nothing, simply marking off a couple more things on his data pad before disappearing. She didn't know whether he retreated into his offices to compile the data he had received, nor if he took a shuttle to connect with a different ship, and once she had cleaned up after the mission she found that she didn't care.

In her eyes, the mission was a success and that was all that mattered to her at the time. Fail the N6 qualification? She would still be registered and remembered as an N5, and that was much higher than she had expected; even her initial N1 was far more than she had anticipated gaining.

The results were sent through a month later, Allison opening her mail to see a response informing her that she had gained N6 qualification. Information that she came by later told her that no one who was being assessed at the same time as her had received the coveted, almost mythical N7 rank. ICT was going through a dry spell when it came to N7, apparently - no one had received one since 2178.

Logically, that news was good - if no one had received an N7 qualification in three years then they were taking care on who they handed out that rank to. Emotionally, it raised questions in her mind - questions she would never, ever voice but were still there. Included in that were questions from simple curiosity: How many N7s were there? How many active, how many retired? What was the average per-year certification? Average time from receiving the recommendation to finishing the course? Pass-fail rate?

Allison shook her head - those kinds of questions weren't worth dwelling on. They offered no insight into the program itself whatsoever, and any brainpower used musing about it was brainpower wasted. She turned back to her inbox, scanning over the email once again.

_Staff Lieutenant Allison Shepard,_

_The instructors at ICT have been debating over your skills and qualification for the recent few weeks. Uncommonly for N candidates, we also inspected and analysed prior events to your joining of the program._

_We understand that as of June 2181 you were awarded rank N6 due to your actions in battle against a pirate holdout in the Terminus Systems. However, much deliberation followed this._

_We have reached a consensus and are pleased to notify you that you are to be a recipient of rank N7. Your actions throughout your military career, not just while under watch of ICT instructors and assessors, makes this a reasonable decision._

_Regards,_

_Cmd. Russ McGhee (Retired)._

Allison closed the mail, closed her inbox, and powered down her data pad. The CO of _Warsaw_ knew she'd received N6 a month ago and had congratulated her on it, and if a flicker of disappointment appeared in the other woman's eyes neither made mention of it. Once Allison had notified her, no more discussion about it had occurred.

Rubbing her eyes, Allison allowed herself a quick glance around the mess hall. Always one of the emptiest places mid-shift on any ship she'd been on, it was a good place to sit and be undisturbed. Only biotics tended to wander down and hang around outside of scheduled meal times, and the other two who were on board - both exceedingly young, barely out of basic - were currently assigned to the night shift and thus assumed to be fast asleep in their assigned sleeper pods.

With a sigh, Allison flicked the data pad back on and browsed back to her mail. She kept it on screen, stood up, and headed for the CO's quarters.

Allison Shepard, Staff Lieutenant, biotic...and now N7.


	6. Misfortune

A/N: This chapter is the start of a 4-part mini section where the chapters all lead on from each other.

**006. Misfortune**

_Date: June 2176_

An explosion, far away and on the horizon of where she could see out of the hotel window was the first sign that things were not as they should have been. Smoke, thick and dark and acrid, swirled out of a civilian building, said civilians flowing out in screams and covered in blood.

The second sign that things were not as they should have been were the numerous small craft that landed over in that sector of the city. All unmarked and patched together in the manner of someone who didn't care nor was able to obtain the proper parts and instead cobbled together what they could.

Being on the fringes of the Skyllian Verge there were two options it could be - pirates or slavers.

Allison was dressed and out of the hotel in minutes, joining the masses swirling through the streets of Illyria. Unlike them, she battled her way through towards the still-smoking building, cursing her lack of armour and weapon - civilians didn't need them on a peaceful colony, and on vacation that's what she was. Mindoir had been attacked six years ago - a hurried call from her mother, explaining she was being detoured, then the news vids which showed a sixteen year old Shepard a good suspicion as to why her mother had called. Elysium was older, more secure, supposedly _safer_.

Allison reached the beginnings of a cordon; some security personnel had been exceedingly quick to respond and had begun directing people away, seemingly oblivious to the landing of craft a good half-hour prior.

"Sorry, ma'am," one said, holding her hand palm out. Allison stopped, gritting her teeth. The woman was middle-aged and with a bored expression on her face, as if bombings or explosions happened out here every day.

Turning on her heel, Allison joined back in the swarms of people; now, instead of moving randomly, they were being directed by more security, almost all of them with confused looks on their faces. Children queried what was going on, being hushed up by older relatives and instructed to just keep moving. Teens and older held fear in their eyes, some more than other.

Somehow, the receptionist at the hotel allowed Allison to head up to her room, bargaining five minutes before she'd need to evacuate. Five minutes was more than enough time for her to grab essentials - no clothing, no sentimental items (not that she carried any of those around with her anyway), but instead her military-grade omni-tool and communications device. Instead of waiting in her hotel room to connect, she made her way back down to the reception area where the last stragglers were being rounded up and directed to a safe area.

"Open channel, this is Corporal Shepard of the _SSV Emden_, currently in Illyria of Elysium_._ We have experienced a bombing on the south-east side of the city, with at least half a dozen unidentified small craft landing some ways behind."

No response.

Allison tried again, this time listening in more closely. There was none of the background fuzz associated with an open, active channel; when she stopped speaking only silence answered her, quiet and unnerving.

A few of the stragglers in the reception area had caught wind of what Allison was trying to do, them looking at her with hope. She gritted her teeth and barely looked around before stalking out of the front doors of the hotel.

_What were they doing?_

The journey back to the hotel had been much quicker simply by the fact that she wasn't fighting against a crowd of people, but it still made it a good forty-five minutes since the crafts had landed. From her estimates, half a dozen craft with an approximate capacity of twelve, minus any pilots...seventy-eight people, assuming they hadn't tried to cram as many on as they could, no concerns for comfort. Allison stood by the entrance of the hotel, frowning.

_What are they waiting for?_

Allison ran a hand over her civvies, exactly where a pistol would be if she had even thought to bring one along. The majority of the crew of _Emden_ had disembarked at Arcturus for their shore leave, splitting off from there to the various colonies and space stations for their well-earned shore leave. People had been sitting, waiting, planning their leave for weeks if not months - the closer they had gotten to shore leave being announced, the more energetic talks in the mess, during liberty, any time they weren't considered actively on the clock became. Some had plans to visit family, friends, or even just fellow Alliance personnel who they'd met on rotation any time from six months ago to ten years.

Allison almost envied them for that. She'd worked hard, knowing that her name would always be looked upon with scrutiny, her parents and majority of her grandparents and great-grandparents all having long, illustrious careers with the Alliance, and the same being expected of herself.

Shore leave had been a foreign concept to her, almost. Her parents had managed their own shore leave to make sure that one of them was around, or at least on low-risk rotations, until she was twelve and considered old enough to look after herself for weeks at a time. Shore leave was a reward, down time for a job well done, before heading off to the next place the Alliance needed you.

She followed the same thoughts her parents did - relax, enjoy your time away, but don't become complacent with it. In her early years, she'd spent the majority of her leave sharpening up her skills - weapons combat, unarmed combat, biotic combat - and it was four years into the military before one of her commanding officers had noted that Allison rarely took some shore leave to _relax_ and have fun.

As such, Allison had all but randomly chosen Elysium for her next shore leave, making a point of leaving her weapons and armour in her locker before leaving the ship.

She could really have done with bringing a weapon along.

She let a curse slip from her lips, muted by the still audible mutterings and movements of civilians.

She had to have the misfortune to be on a colony, during an attack, with no way to defend herself.


	7. Questioning

**007. Questioning**

_Date: June 2176_

The first rally of batarians had burst through not far from the bombed-out building, much to Allison's lack of surprise. The security personnel, she was exceedingly glad to notice, had compact pistols on them and were able to get off a few shots.

Allison had burst forwards, shoving through the rapidly-thinning crowds and was able to pull up two batarians with a lift. Given prime, still targets security turned on them and the batarians quickly became bloodied swiss cheese before collapsing back down onto the asphalt. A few more batarians were quickly flung into the air before they caught onto the tactics and started firing towards the security.

Allison managed to dive behind a slab of concrete that had once intended to be an urban planter before a shotgun blast knocked the top chunk off, raining concrete and rubble down onto her head. With a quick swipe she brushed the debris off and chanced a half-stand, visually locking on to the three batarians that remained. Moving quickly, Allison motioned a lift, then a throw, tossing the batarians as far away as she could manage. It wouldn't give her much time, but it would give her _enough_.

Two of the security were still awake and moving; the majority, upon inspection, were either dead or so far gone it was pointless attempting to help. Allison grabbed a pistol from one of the fallen, checking the ammo block to see how much was left. Basic, standard issue with no added mods, but at this point in time it was infinitely better than any other option she had. She quickly shoved it under the waistband of her jeans, by her right thigh, and took off running.

First thing first, find out how many Alliance personnel were still around.

[ - ]

_Why?_

The question echoed around Allison's mind as she kept up a quick pace, staying far enough ahead of any frontline batarian troops but distant enough to be a long way away from any civilians who had started evacuation. Since Mindoir, being one of the worst slaver raids in history, some of the larger or more at-risk colonies had practised better protection and evacuation procedures aimed at getting people out of the risky areas.

No one on Elysium probably estimated needing to use such a procedure so soon.

Allison hit an intersection, a five-way jumbled mess of streets whose purposed seemed to only serve to confuse non-locals. Concrete on the ground and dry weather left no tracks, no indication where the evacuation had run. Protection against the oncoming batarians, a danger to any lingering humans.

She picked a route at random, turning down the second right and continuing on at a steady pace.

_Why?_

Elysium had suffered slaver and pirate raids before – if it had managed sixteen years in the Verge without _one_ raid it would have been a miracle. Elysium was also the largest colony, offering a high number of targets but also a well-built defence system.

The tactics the batarians were employing also seemed sound, from a strategic point of view. Allison had only seen a small number of batarians despite the potential numbers in the transports, indicating that they were holding back the main troops for a later assault.

Panic the prey, make them run, make them exhaust themselves, and only then did you engage them face-to-face.

_Why?_

Allison stopped, looking around te street she'd chosen to run down. No surprise, it was empty and forlorn, high-up windows left open, various shops left looking like people had left mid-meal, mid-shop, or just mid-social meeting.

Which, she supposed, was the truth.

Allison cursed her lack of local knowledge of Elysium – she'd seen the fortifications around the outside of the city, tall and strong walls intended to hold out a raid in the vein of a city at siege back in the middle ages. There were numerous entryways for the city, many paths crossing over each other, many ways...

Many ways to flush people out into the one area you wanted them to go to.

Allison let out a stream of curses, not being as careful to keep them under her breath as she would have done if civilians were around. She'd been so intently focused on the south-east of the city, where the initial half-dozen craft had landed, that she hadn't even thought that there might be other ships, other batarians, other attacks funnelling the humans in the city.

She loaded up her omni-tool and checked her compass. She was heading north-east, and she had yet to see any indication of an attack similar to the one that had flushed her out. Allison closed down her omni-tool and pulled out her borrowed pistol, keeping the safety on and casually carrying it with her, barrel pointing down to the ground. She didn't want to accidentally shoot a civilian if she – or they – got spooked in any way.

[ - ]

At the north-east junction, close by yet another entryway, there was another bombed-out building, this one more damaged with half the infrastructure had already been blown away. Even as she stood a distance away, the building creaked, cracked, and shedded more dust and debris down to the ground. There was no sign of any batarians, and after Allison chanced a look out past the entryway, there were no ships landed there either.

Allison knew she had to be cautious, be careful – the batarians may well have been attempting to herd humans, and if they were they would not be happy to see a lone human wandering outside of their pseudo barricade.

[ - ]

Straight west gave Allison more ammo for her suspicions – angling around to east, south, and then west had all shown the same signs, bombs and attacks, no ships. West, however, was attack-free, numbers of humans huddled in what looked like a make-shift area, a few in official uniforms directing the majority with the kind of authority Allison knew came with a uniform. She slid her pistol back into the waistband of her jeans, keeping her eyes alert and scanning the area, and made to step forwards.


	8. Blood

**008. Blood**

_Date: June 2176_

Blood was everywhere – streaming in rivers across the ground, continually being added to with each heartbeat of humans. Blood coated Allison, dried and cracked across her arms and cheeks, no time to find a water source, no safety to be able to leave her back uncovered when the enemy was out there, _everywhere_.

The ammo in her pistol was half-empty, getting her into a situation she'd never thought she'd find herself in. She needed to find a spare ammo block before she risked running out in a siege situation.

The west side of the city was almost destroyed – the batarians had been leading the humans into a trap and sprung it once they suspected enough humans were there. They'd been merciless – turning guns and grenades and even the rare sight of blue coronas indicating biotics being among the troops.

Allison had heard enough from other people to know what tactics batarians used when given a large number of humans. Her mother had been shocked and silent coming back from Mindoir, and stories she'd overheard in the mess from other Alliance Systems personnel gave her more than enough knowledge.

Batarians were ruthless – if you were too old, you were deemed useless. Batarians wanted the young, the easily malleable. Get them young enough, and you could turn them to your way of thinking. More reports than people were comfortable enough had ended with rescued slaves refusing to do anything unless given explicit permission, or had even struggled against their saviours and wanting to return to their slave masters – Stockholm Syndrome. They saw the batarians not as the people who had killed friends and family and stolen them away, but as saviours who had saved them from dying and turned their life into purpose.

There were even reports of completely unknown children being found, the implications being that they were born into slavery. Young enough, they could be rescued along with their carer – assumed to be mother. Too much older and they were rescued on their own, their parents unknown.

The pattern at Elysium had been no different. The weapons had been turned mainly on the adults, leaving as many children under the assumed age of sixteen untouched. It wasn't a complete success, as many children's bodies laid in the blood, counting among the dead and dying.

Allison had managed to save a few, risking revealing herself and calling out, shielding a small group of people behind a thrown biotic barrier. It barely lasted thirty seconds, but it was more than enough time for a group of panicked people to sprint away into cover, hopefully away from the batarians and into safety.

She'd repeated that tactic twice more, even as guns thundered and people dropped in front of her. She'd saved thirty – maybe even less – but thirty people who had another shot at living.

Allison dodged behind another planter, wincing as the corner of it exploded in a shower of concrete. The batarians had seen her all too easily, and when the third group of humans vanished they'd decided enough was enough and focused on hunting down this one lone human who was starting to cause them rather more trouble than one human should.

The shooting halted, the guns the batarians were using overheating. Allison counted off three before diving out of cover and continuing to run; an explosion sounded behind her and she risked a look over her shoulder. The planter she had been hiding behind was no more, the area blasted away by a grenade.

"This is Corporal Shepard of the _SSV Emden_, currently in Illyria of Elysium. We have experienced bombings on numerous sides of the city, batarian forces present. Multiple civilian casualties. Please respond."

Allison closed down her comm. channel, focusing all her attention back on running. A few market tables littered the nearby area and instead of spending time dashing around, she jumped and slid across them, putting more distance between her and the batarians.

She had no idea where she was going, where she should go, other than it should be as far away from the west side as possible. North? If the batarians weren't trying to force humans there as well.

Allison turned down a path heading south, and squeezed into a tiny alleyway. She forced her breathing to slow, ignoring the burn in her muscles and lungs. Hurried, frantic breathing would draw attention; slow, cautious breathing could be dialled down close to being silent and undetectable.

She slid back further down into the alleyway, moving her out of eyesight from the main street, but also cutting off what she could see down in the street. It was worth the risk, and she pulled out her pistol again. If only a few pursued her, she could potentially take them out before they would be able to call for any backup.

A thought ran through her head at that – if none of her communications were being sent out, wasn't it likely that the batarians were also blocking their own communications? She doubted they had enough knowledge or desire to only block Alliance communications and allow theirs through. It was a question of brute force versus targeted attacks.

Had anything she'd heard about batarians, seen what they'd done, pointed to them preferring a targeted attack?

A couple of batarians walked into view, each holding a version of an assault rifle, scanning the area. One gestured to the other, questioning most likely if the other had see her. The other responded in the negative, and the first grunted. They swept their guns around, scanning the area before turning and heading back the way they'd came.

Allison wiped an arm across her forehead, more than likely smearing some not-yet dried blood across her face. She was running out of options – she couldn't estimate how long this siege had been going on for already, and had little idea how much longer it would last.

She slinked out of the alleyway, casting her gun around. Seeing no one, not even humans, she continued on out.

The next thing she knew, a shotgun blast echoed around the market area, her right leg began to burn, and her blood started to stream down to the ground.


	9. Silence

**009. Silence**

_Date: June 2176_

Despite the stream of people, the serious walking wounded being escorted from the surface of Elysium to the hospital ships up in orbit, the extreme wounded and barely wounded staying on-planet, the ships themselves were almost silent.

Allison had been shoved into a small room, rotating three other people in and out beside her, but even in those conditions the majority of the time it was silent...and empty. Those that were placed in the same room never seemed to be there for long, the beds remaining empty more often than not.

Despite all logic, the room had a view out into space, Elysium in full view and the almost-finish construction of the Jon Grissom Academy just within view. She'd heard the rumours and stories about it – she doubted there was a single biotic in Systems Alliance that didn't. An academic station for students talented in math, science, and liberal arts, but that was just what the main brochures had said. Illyria had been plastered in adverts for the upcoming academy, wanting everyone to know that it was built above that planet, and that people would be travelling to it from the capital city.

Lesser known, and not quite confirmed, was the news that it was starting up a biotic training programme. Allison knew one had existed previously, shut down for reasons unknown – after her accident on Benning in '70, she'd overheard discussions between her parents about a prior training programme for biotics. Nothing had ever come of that for her, and at age twenty-two she was all too likely considered too old to participate in any training programme outside of the Alliance.

The silence was cut through with the sound of a wheelchair moving through the hallways, and Allison glanced over to see a nurse pushing the item through the corridor, an idle expression on her face as she focused on something only she could see. Before too long, the nurse disappeared further down into the ship, the sound of movement being swallowed up.

Sighing to herself, Allison stood up slowly and moved cautiously over to the window. Her leg was still healing, still being told to exercise caution when using it, but with good estimates that she'd be able to be discharged within the next few days. The wound was still pink and raw, the damage the bullet had done being reverted thanks to reconstructive efforts.

Illyria was a bright spot on the planet, no signs of any kind of damage visible. If Allison hadn't experienced differently, she would have thought hanging in space beside the planet was just a stopover, maybe even keeping the ship in a holding position for a further port.

She didn't _like _silence, even more so now. Silence could hide things, obscure them from view, take away or neglect to tell you things you needed to know to do your job effectively. Silence was the waiting in a holed-up area, watching for another batarian slaver or turian pirate to come into view and shoot them before they could even think about what damage to do next.

Silence was the person next to you being shot and dying right in front of you, with nothing that could be done except to move on, keep going, keep fighting, keep alive.

Silence was the people, civilians, too injured to help, too weak to move, too far gone to do anything but stay silent as life slipped away.

Silence was being locked in a medical ship, not knowing what was happening or what was going to occur next.

Allison moved back to her bed, choosing to sit on it rather than swing her legs up and lay down once more. There was nothing physically keeping her in the room, just the necessity of medical check-ups. Elysium was effectively locked in a state of emergency, with no ships coming in or out without explicit notification. Catching snippets of chatter from medical staff, she knew the names of some of the Alliance ships that were now stationed in the system – some she had served on, some her mother had served on, some her father had served on. Whether it was coincidence or deliberate, she didn't know, but neither of her parents' ships were anywhere in the vicinity. Were they just too far out and other ships nearer, or was there a deliberate effort to keep Hannah and Dominick away from an event that almost lost them their daughter?

Allison sighed and swung her legs up, shuffling under the sheet as she did so. Her last check-over had noted that she was recovering well. She wasn't completely healed, but enough that they would be happy for her to continue healing at home...wherever she chose 'home' to be this time.

She mentally ticked through all the places she could take some leave at. Call her superstitious, but she'd want to stay away from the Skyllian Verge for the near future, just in case. Logically, the Verge would be locked down even more than usual, aiming to drive out any pockets of people who might have had the thought about attacking a second human colony so soon. Earth held no appeal – too noisy, crowded, distracting. Arcturus, maybe? No, too military – her face had already been plastered over numerous reports. None showed her post-Elysium, but many drew enough attention to her that she'd be recognised three minutes after setting foot on the station.

Allison lost herself in thought, working her way through a list of potential locations. None overly made themselves known to her, and in all likelihood she could see herself at a stop-over on Arcturus or Gagarin, randomly choosing a location on a galaxy map to decide where to go. Staying with the military was a non-issue – she'd already been informed, third-hand, that she _would_ be taking leave, the leave she had intended to take at Elysium plus some additional to allow her to recuperate after injuries. There was no way the Alliance would let her weasel her way out of this leave.

She hated the silence.


	10. Food

**010. Food**

_Date: February 2170_

Allison shuffled on her feet as she waited in line for the cafeteria, cursing herself for hanging back a few minutes to clarify something with a teacher rather than heading immediately over. She moved fast, and was typically one of the first people in the cafeteria, sitting down and eating before the majority of people had even picked up their own food.

Today, however, someone was taking all the time in the world picking over what they were going to have for lunch. It didn't help that there was a crowd of about five people around her, all talking and muttering and laughing and distracting, and the cafeteria worker seemed in no hurry to get them to choose food and move on.

Eventually, the gaggle moved on, trays with varying foods on them, and the line inched forwards. If she'd had the choice, Allison would have said 'screw it' to the lunch line and brown bagged it, but one of the stipulations of this particular school was that everyone – _everyone_ – had the meals provided.

Even if those meals were woefully lacking in calories for a running hot latent biotic.

Allison moved to the front of the line, ignoring some of the sniggers she heard behind her. She picked up her usual fare – a sandwich, this time a turkey-swiss-apple opinion, greek salad, and a bottle of water. The fact that the food was pre-paid was one small mercy as Allison grabbed her tray and moved to the far end of the cafeteria where the few remaining free tables were.

As she passed by the tables some of them fell silent, only to start up again with whispers, laughs, and murmurs. One table started up some snorting noises, reminiscent of a pig, and the entire table fell about laughing. Allison held her head up high as she passed them, pretending like she couldn't hear them, couldn't hear any of the sly comments directed to her.

She slid into one of the chairs at an empty table, her back to the wall and looking out across the cafeteria. She speared some lettuce with her spork as she did so, letting the cutlery dangle from her hand as she analysed the area. The line for food was still quite long, but almost half the people in the room had food and were sitting around with friends or keeping their eyes focused on the line, waiting for friends from a different class to arrive.

Allison munched her way through her salad, keeping her eyes downcast and steadfastly ignoring anyone who walked past her table. Even with the crowds in the cafeteria, the number of people who did actually walk past her table was a very small proportion, and even as people squeezed onto places on crowded tables, the area around her continued to be vacant. As need for space got more desperate a few people chose to perch on the opposite end of the table Allison was on, practically jumping up from the table the moment they were done eating.

With no place to go until lunch period had finished, Allison had settled herself in to the table with some assigned homework. English Lit had already saddled her with requirements to read the first five chapters of _Unwilling Theft_ and give an analysis of it. Given the size of the file on the data pad Allison would not have been surprised if the book itself was a monster. Still, she pulled out the data pad and flicked it on, beginning to read when the file loaded up.

Despite the lunch, she was still hungry, and left the cafeteria ten minutes before her next class was scheduled. She passed by a vending machine, nabbing a candy bar and finishing it off before arriving at the classroom for her next lesson with still a few minutes to spare.

[ - ]

Phys Ed was exhausting to begin with, but when Allison had thought that staying behind after school for additional track and field would be a good idea it was worse. She pulled up part-way through a track lap, grabbing her stopwatch and pausing it as she doubled over, hands resting on her knees. She felt lightheaded, breaths coming in rapid gasps, and she staggered over across to where she had placed her bag. By this time, a couple of people were looking over at her; Allison grabbed a quick snack, ate it, then indicated her intent to leave.

[ - ]

A quick check of the clock showed it to be creeping up on six when Allison finally walked into the prefab she called home. She tossed a takeout bag down onto the floor next to the door and shut it with a sigh. The food situation was becoming annoying, to her at least, but so far all three doctors she'd had check-ups with had told her that it was within the realm of normal for a biotic, albeit on the high end. Still, the fact that she was needing so much food was becoming a concern for her, regardless of what the doctors had said. She'd slimmed down quite quickly within a few weeks, not that she had even that much weight to lose to begin with.

And when she felt lightheaded during the exact same phys ed she did a couple of months ago was becoming concerning.

Allison picked up the takeaway bag and moved through to the kitchen, placing it on the table while she found herself a glass for a drink. A few minutes later, she was hunched over the table lightly picking at a burger and fries as she continued reading through the book for English Lit. The book was interesting enough to keep her mind off general events, but not interesting enough that she would likely find herself tracking down another copy of the file when finished with it in class. In an alternative window on the data pad she kept scribbles, thoughts and ideas on the book, as well as occasional copied sections of the book to give more context to her. By the time she'd finished the burger she'd also read through the first five chapters with plenty of notes to keep her teacher happy.


	11. Drink

A/N: In pretty much all settled colonies, and the vast majority of countries on Earth, eighteen is the age where you are considered a full adult. Eighteen is also the age at which people can legally drink.

**011. Drink**

_Date: April 2172_

"To graduation," Finn said, raising up a small glass of champagne. Allison snorted but she copied the movement, the two glasses chinking together before he took a sip. As soon as he did, he scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out. "Bleh. Alcohol is most certainly an acquired taste."

Allison took a sip of her own drink, and almost mirrored Finn with her own expression. "I'll agree with you there." Allison placed her own glass down carefully on the blanket, ignoring the fake grass smell that was surrounding them. Being an new, enclosed colony on an otherwise uninhabitable planet, any green areas were almost always fake until the actual stuff grew. That was a good number of years off, still.

"So, Allison, you told me that you had something really important to do today. Something that meant you _couldn't_ meet until now. What was it?" Finn focused his attention on Allison, his own drink placed down on the blanket.

Allison shifted a little. "Well...this wasn't a snap decision. I've been thinking about this for a long while." Finn looked at her, and she continued on. "I signed up to the Alliance Military. Marine branch."

"I...are you _serious_?" Allison nodded, and Finn ran a hand through his hair. "Allison, you know how much being in the Alliance has taken up your parents' time. When was the last time you saw your mum? Or dad?" Finn fell backwards, lying flat on his back on the blanket. "You _have_ thought about this?"

"I have." Allison had a faint scowl on her face. "I have my reasons – good ones. I graduated from high school almost a year ago, and as fun as it is working down at the local shooting range it's not a job I want to keep doing. The military...it appeals to me."

"In what way?" Finn sat back up, a glare on his face. "Shooting people? Getting into wars?"

Allison scowled herself. "Yes, it's dangerous. I'm not saying it isn't. But I want to help people. I want to travel around. Being here on Siyurn for eighteen months? This is fast coming up on the longest I've spent anywhere, and that's probably only because my parents know that I can take care of myself and don't need to follow their assignment ships any more."

"So, what, you're doing this just because they are?"

Allison shrugged. "I'm a Navy brat. Not exactly like I saw them doing any other jobs. Staying out in space, travelling around seems right to me, and unless I fancy backpacking through the universe the military offers me a good opportunity."

"Shooting people. Getting into wars."

"Protecting people like you and your sister."

Finn sighed. "You know Hanna's gonna want to follow you right into the military, right? At least I've got a few years to stop her doing it just for hero-worship reasons."

Allison smiled wanly. "Not like I'm forcing her to join. Although, being a biotic..."

Finn narrowed his eyes. "What does being a biotic have anything to do with it?"

Allison turned to face Finn. "Promise me you won't freak out. I didn't know about this until they said, but..."

"But?"

"The Alliance Military is exceedingly eager to get their hands on biotics, get people with biotic abilities in their ranks. They offer a very generous enlistment incentive for any biotic who agrees to join."

"How much?"

"Enough to be more than I'd make in my first year with the military. _Very_ generous."

Finn whistled slightly to himself. "What restrictions?"

"Five year enlistment. After that, you can go your own way."

"So that means you won't be out of the military until 2177?"

"You got it." Allison reached back for her champagne glass and took another sip of it. It wasn't as bad as initially, and she was able to take a couple more sips before placing it back down. "It's not so bad. Past boot camp, I've been on a lot of space ships in my life. A _lot_. It won't be as much of a shock to me as, say, a kid who grew up on a colony." Allison grinned at Finn, who smiled back.

"I've still got a few months before I need to think about the specifics of my career or education opportunities. I still don't know how you managed to graduate early."

"Accelerated program, more or less. Between April and August I spent a lot of time studying and finished off quite a lot of required classes. High school here, I just needed to do the classes I couldn't do in a home environment."

"Uh-huh." Finn grabbed his own glass, absently swirling the champagne around in it. After a few seconds he took a sip, his grimace lesser than earlier. "Yeah, still need to get used to this stuff."

"Good thing you didn't bring along a large bottle then," Allison said.

"Yup. Don't want to drag you home and explain to your mum why you're drunk."

Allison laughed. "Her rotation isn't scheduled to finish for another month. Plenty of time without parental interference."

"Yeah." Finn's smile disappeared as he looked down into his glass, taking another sip. "So...where does this leave, y'know, us? You're not exactly going to be able to talk to me much at boot camp, and if they're so desperate to get their hands on biotics you'll probably go on your first tour not long after."

"I'll keep in contact as much as I can. I promise." Allison looked over at Finn, hoping he was taking it as kindly as she was trying to say it. "First leave, tell you what, I'll get you transport over to Bekenstein and I'll meet you there."

A smile flickered over Finn's face before it disappeared. "That a promise?"

"It's a guarantee." Allison held her champagne glass up, the sun sparkling off it, and Finn held his up, clinking it against hers. "To the future."

"Whatever it may bring."

The two fell into silence, watching the scenery from the top of the hill, as they finished off their drink.


	12. Teamwork

**012. Teamwork**

_Date: November 2178_

Allison was twenty-four before she was posted on a ship with a second ground-crew biotic. The _SSV Manilla_, a cruiser, was certainly large enough to have multiple biotics on the crew, but a second being specifically assigned to the ground crew around the same time she was reeked of something less coincidental.

When the marine detail commander had all but shoved them together and told them to work out their biotics together, that feeling soon changed to one that said they were specifically assigned together for a purpose.

The other biotic was a man, dark skin and dark hair with intense blue eyes. Eldon Pitko was barely a year younger than Allison and an L2. While she was more confident in her biotic abilities in regards to fields and spacial distortion than Pitko, his abilities were almost exclusively focused around telekinetic abilities with below average spacial distortion techniques. His kinetic field abilities were almost non-existent, and had he not chosen to train in various weapon types he would have been considered very unbalanced.

[ - ]

Allison ignored the small group of people in the training area as she warmed up for her initial exercises. Partway across the room, Pitko was doing the same, flexing the fingers on his left hand and flickers of a blue corona running up and down his lower arm. She couldn't detect the subtle shifts in gravity she felt when he was closer, not even when she reached out to try and sense them. He was too far away, corona currently too weak to sense anything.

When he stopped his exercises and fully flared up, Allison could feel him all too easily. The mutant nodules which allowed them to manipulate local gravity fields also allowed them to detected them. A biotic sixth sense - you needed to be able to _feel_ the fields to _manipulate_ them.

The stronger the field, the easier it was to detect.

Allison let her own corona flare up; she didn't concentrate and focus it down to anything, just held it as it flickered across her. She looked across the room, reading Pitko's expression; he had his head slightly cocked, eyes partially closed. He was sensing her own corona, her own gravity field, but seemed to be having a little difficulty in focusing on it.

He removed his corona, motioning for Allison to start moving before he closed his eyes completely. She did so, keeping her corona active, walking initially in a straight line towards Pitko before beginning to move more erratically - dodging across, backing up the way she had come. Pitko tracked her, head moving so that if his eyes had been open, he'd be looking to where he thought she'd be.

The closer Allison got, the more accurate Pitko got; across the room he had a delay of about three seconds, which narrowed down to under a second when she was about six feet away. He frowned, concentrating, and his corona flared to life. An empty box that had been close to Pitko floated up before speeding across to where he thought Allison was. Reacting quickly, she changed her corona into a barrier before enveloping Pitko's lift with one of her own. Feeling a second influence on the box, Pitko opened his eyes and removed his lift.

Allison was holding the box up a half-foot away from where she had been standing; as Pitko looked over she let the box carefully slide down to the ground.

_Getting better._

[ - ]

Allison glanced over the top of the cover she was hiding behind, seeing a couple of VI drones patrolling. This was the third room she and Pitko were working through, and they were starting to get the hang of how each other worked. Not tactics or what weapons they preferred, but biotic abilities. Using biotics across a battlefield was one thing, but ensuring they coordinated their attacks so that neither interfered with the other was a much tricker aspect.

Pitko motion for Allison to go first, and she did so. Her corona activated as she ran through the mnemonic for a warp, directing it at the nearest of the two drones. When the drone was affected by that, Allison felt the pull of gravity manipulation to her left and looked over to see Pitko readying a lift. He aimed it at the drone she'd attacked, and she steadied herself to avoid becoming too affected by it.

The drone hit the ceiling with a dull crunch, and the two biotics turned their focus to the other drone. This time Pitko used warp and Allison lift; the pull of gravity was less so than before, and the second drone also hit the ceiling.

"Next room?" Pitko said, and Allison nodded.

[ - ]

How she had landed herself in a squad with _two_ other biotics was a mystery - she was just thankful that the Alliance required every biotic to spend time training with others to avoid being affected by another biotic field, whether friend or foe. The sheer amount of biotic power that was being thrown about was staggering, with one attack finishing only to be replaced with a fresh attack from the next biotic. Brandon and Nixt were about on par with each other when it came to biotic abilities, having moderate skill in all three aspects, and were using all aspects to the greatest effect they could.

Allison held back with her own abilities, relying on her shotgun more than anything else. They'd made a dig-in to shield against the attack and had hunkered down to deal with the seemingly endless waves of pirates swarming towards them. Realistically, it was barely more than a hundred or so, with the pirates attacked from five different directions, but it was still draining for biotics.

There was a lull in the minute pull of Brandon and Nixt's biotics, and Allison took that as her cue. She readied a lift and looked over the rim of her cover; there, a small group of four pirates. She hit the middle of the group with her lift, all four of them being pulled into the air. Cracks from guns cut through the air at the new targets.

_Thank goodness for teamwork._


	13. Stripes

A/N: This is another four-parter ficlet. Chronologically, about two months after _005. Expectations_.

**013. Stripes**

_Date: October 2181_

Allison planted her feet firmly in the ground, sweeping her shotgun around in a slow arc. Her helmet was on, visor down, mask on and internal enviro circulating air around her system.

The colony had been firebombed, destruction everywhere, and conservative estimates were that a good third of the colony had perished in the initial attack. The pirate raid had seemingly come out of nowhere, and by the time _Warsaw_ had responded to the distress call so had a small number of other ships.

Allison led the first contingent of the ground crew from _Warsaw_, the red stripe on her armour a clear beacon to anyone who came within visual range of her. As one of her friends once said about the N7 qualification, 'it means you shout and everyone obeys'.

There was nothing more true that what she was experiencing on the ground. People multiple ranks above her, with years more experience, were all looking to _her_ for advice and guidance. She snagged a young second lieutenant, got him to explain to her in more detail what had happened; he babbled a little until his eyes recognised the N7 logo, the red stripe, and then everything came pouring out.

The chaos around her was almost reminiscent of Elysium, and it easily snapped her into Survive, Evade, Resist, Extract, training that had become all too familiar since then, and almost second nature in her missions. She shouted orders, directed her team where they'd be needed or where they could best help. Her medic stayed with some injured civilians; her XO split with two of their ground crew; the lone person remaining with her shadowed her.

More ground crews passed by, and if any approached Allison she barked out more orders - contain the pirates, care for survivors, keep sharp and alert. If any had any arguments to spring to their lips, it died when they saw the red stripe on her armour.

"Nordberg, stay here." Operations Chief Nordberg, the one person who had stayed with her from _Warsaw,_ looked up in horror. "That's an order."

She knew Nordberg would argue, but he hadn't seen what she had. Ignoring his protests, she placed her shotgun back on its holster and moved forwards, grabbing her pistol instead. She readied her mnemonic for her barrier, not yet activating it but ensuring that one quick flick would bring it to life.

She'd heard something out past all the dust and debris, but wasn't willing to risk anyone venturing forth but her. The visibility was poor, each step taking her further into obscurity. She kept her radio on, tuned to the signal her ground crew had been instructed to use. If anything, she could alert them to what might be out beyond the initial boundary.

She crept forwards, pistol aimed and hand ready. Footsteps fell quietly, muffled slightly by the dust surrounding everything. With visibility down, she had to rely more on her hearing. Her IFF was useless here with the number of civilians around; if activated, it would read hundreds of thousands of possible enemy combatants.

Allison turned a corner, scanning in front of her. Still nothing. Her breathing stayed steady, controlled, systems monitoring registering as typical levels. She wasn't stressed, or anxious, or panicky, just...confused.

There hadn't been nearly enough time for the ships responsible for the attack to evacuate their personnel and scurry back into FTL. There would still be some people down on the ground.

Allison hit an intersection, two paths in addition to the one she had come from. She checked around, listening in closely, but still heard nothing.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Allison Shepard. Has there been any sign of enemy combatants?"

"No, ma'am," Nordberg said. "We've only been seeing humans."

Allison grimaced, ending the conversation and picking up the pace a little. Her feet scuffed against the ground slightly where she was unable to see stable footing. She did a mnemonic for a barrier, still keeping her left hand free.

Her corona swirled around her as she moved, slightly painting everything around her in a light blue hue. Still, the further she moved, the deeper into the city she moved, apprehension prickled at the back of her neck.

This was _wrong_.

The city shouldn't have been so empty, so quiet. At the very least she had expected stragglers, injured civilians, something around her that wasn't dust and debris. It was strange, wrong, quiet in the way Elysium had been when the batarians were herding humans.

She had learned a lot from Elysium, and a lot since then.

Allison stepped forwards to see a solid brick wall blocking any further progress; checks to the left and right showed no other pathway but back the way she had come. Reaching the intersection, she chose the path she'd yet to go down.

Her pistol stayed steady in her hand, held up as a precaution against anyone who might have tried to get the drop on her. The concentration needed was tiring, her mind nudging her, telling her to relax, take it easy, there was no danger around.

She locked that section of her mind away, delving into her military training instead. _That_ echoed her earlier thoughts, that the silence was bad, that there was something here that didn't quite fit.

Allison walked down into what seemed like a commercial district, housing slowly giving way to shops and stores. All deserted, as expected. There weren't even any signs that people had been this way recently - the streets were spotless, the businesses Allison glanced into all perfectly arranged.

A click.

Allison instantly spun around to where her brain told her the sound came from, fixing her pistol on that spot. Her left hand moved to start executing a mnemonic, almost restless. Seconds ticked by, each one counted off with a heartbeat, and after thirty Allison relaxed a fraction, turning and continuing on her search. She kept her side to the source of the sound, eyes continuing to glance back in case anyone ventured out of the dust.

No one did.


	14. Alone

**014. Alone**

_Date: October 2181_

"Shepard here. Nordberg, what's your situation?"

Silence answered her, not even the faint fuzz that told her comms. were open. Allison bit back a curse; she should have foreseen this. Thankfully, unlike the last time she was at ground on a dangerous situation she had Alliance ships backing her up. She backed up, turning around and hurrying along the pathway, keeping her comm. open just on the off-chance it was a glitch, an error, a temporary effect.

Before, the empty streets had been a point of confusion; now they were a point of concern. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled up in anxiety, and seconds before her barrier faded she'd made the movements to summon one up again.

The path back to the LZ was clear, uninhibited except for the dust still swirling around. Even the dust thinned out as she got closer, visibility increasing. Eyes immediately began scanning the vicinity, searching for some of her squad.

It was empty.

The shuttles that had ferried people down to the planet's surface were gone, no trace that they'd even been there at all save for dust blown into symmetrical peaks every so often. The shuttles retreating wasn't an issue; in a hot zone like this it was better for them to drop troops and retreat rather than giving enemies large, potentially explosive targets.

"Nordberg, this is Shepard. Report."

Silence answered her once more, and she quickly checked the time. She'd left Nordberg well over thirty minutes ago, but that should not have been enough time for a full evac. That was also ignoring the fact that the evac signal would have needed to be transmitted across comms., comms. that were stubbornly staying _dead_.

Allison took stock of her situation and surroundings. The LZ was a clear area, nice and open; if the dust wasn't there she was sure she could have seen quite a distance into the city proper. Open, however, meant no cover, and she was a huge target where she was standing. Like in Elysium, she needed to find cover and analyse what she would do from there.

[ - ]

Cover was found in the form of a narrow alleyway, the similarities to Elysium now coming thick and fast. The dust was still swirling around, and Allison reckoned that it would be a good length of time before it settled. She'd switched her pistol for her shotgun, the higher damage being a reasonable trade-off to be able to attack with both bullets and biotics.

She kept her ears alert, listening for any sounds of people. As before, silence stretched on, wearing down and fraying her nerves. Five years since Elysium, and silence was still the one thing in a battlefield that rattled her.

Allison checked her comms. again, noting silence there again. She'd not seen any signs of a scrambler, although not being a tech she wasn't certain she would notice such signs. She held back a grimace - this was why, when given the option, she liked to have at least one tech-minded person on her squad. They covered up her deficiencies in that field - she'd focused her efforts and training on weapons and biotics, the two things she was good at.

Only now, those deficiencies were starting to rear their ugly head.

Allison moved out of the alleyway cautiously; enough time had passed since she'd slid there that she was certain if anyone had been shadowing her they would have passed by before now. As before, she kept her shotgun levelled, scanning the area as she passed by, checking small walkways and alleys for enemy combatants.

Nothing.

[ - ]

This was getting troublesome. Not worrisome; she didn't worry, not to the levels that civilians did. No, the trouble was in seeing no one around, friend or foe, and no understanding of what was going on. She'd done a small circuit of the inner area of the city, everything still being nightmarishly silent. Her comm. was still stubbornly silent, and she had the suspicion that she'd missed something, somewhere.

Well, if the marines' unofficial motto was _adapt, improvise, overcome_, the N7's unofficial motto was _always suspect, always investigate_. No N7 ever got their ranking by shying away from things, but likewise no N7 lasted long by being reckless. Elite operatives, yes, but not jarheads.

Allison hit another intersection, pausing and looking around. On this corner of the street someone owned a clothing shop, advertising the latest sales. Human only, from the designs in the shop; Allison doubted that many non-humans would venture over to a small colony like this for shopping, not when better and more multicultural places existed.

Her comm. crackled, and Allison frowned. A second later, it was back to silence. Now that tripped her suspicions - comms. could drop out, but never with complete failure. If they did drop, you could always count on still being able to hear something, get some kind of message even if it was complete gibberish thanks to interference. Even solar flares couldn't disrupt comms. like they were right here.

Someone had a comm. suppressor here.

Like Elysium.

Allison compacted her shotgun and holstered it, leaving both her hands free. She stood stock-still in the middle of the street, eyes glancing to the side and ears listening. Still nothing - no movements of creatures, no scuffs of shoes.

Nothing.

In all the places she'd been, all the colonies she'd visited, nowhere had ever been completely _silent_. Even in Elysium there had been some sounds from wildlife, albeit quickly silenced when the raid had turned into a siege.

Unlike then, however, she appeared to be all alone.

Allison squared her shoulders and activated her omni-tool. Tracking the map she'd downloaded onto the device before leaving the ship, she zoomed out. Her location was reasonably easy to find, a small dot in the north-east section of the city. With comms. down, she only had herself to scout out events and find out what was truly going on.

With a determined set to her shoulders, she made her way back to the LZ.


	15. Bomb

**015. Bomb**

_Date: October 2181_

Allison hopped over a shattered piece of concrete, skimming around the next part. She'd done a quarter circuit of the outside of the city with nothing for her efforts save for the sweat that was starting to build up on her forehead. The flames from the firebomb had long since extinguished but as the system's star moved higher and higher in the sky, the warmer the surrounding area became. Inside a full set of armour, the temperature began to skyrocket.

Her pistol was back in her right hand, left hand free for mnemonics, and the dust was only just looking like it would start to settle. Unfortunately, the settling dust did nothing to alleviate the silence that had taken hold of the city. Aside from one second of connection, her comms. had stayed stubbornly silent.

No matter where she looked, every place was empty. She'd allowed herself to relax a fraction at that information, but still made sure to keep on alert. There was still no sign of any kind of wildlife, no chattering of birds or dashing of rodents. Even the wind was still.

She continued her circuit around of the outskirts of the city but it still wasn't sitting right. Nothing should have been this empty, this clean, this _devoid_. There should have been something around, not nothing left looking like everyone save her had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Allison turned back to one of the streets that led right into the heart of the city. She holstered her pistol and glanced at some of the concrete shards that were standing in her way. Walking towards them, she deftly hopped over and went back into the dust.

[ - ]

The dust was finally settling, allowing light to slowly start to filter it. It cast everything in a strange, almost dusky glow, the light flickering as clouds of thicker dust obscured it between sections of thinner or almost-absent dust.

The path into the centre of the city hadn't shown up any more information, nor had she seen any other living creature in the area. As she had been doing countless times, she rounded the next corner, pistol in one hand and mnemonic ready in the other, scanning around.

Unlike the other times, this search didn't come up empty.

A small charge was set down beside a house - a civilian house, from the looks of it - and Allison let out a quick "shit" as she holstered her pistol and ran over to it. Sliding to her knees, she crouched down and activated her omni-tool, quickly scanning it over the charge and typing in a few commands.

Nothing came back, and Allison let slip another curse. She pulled off the front cover, analysing the components she found inside. Detonation charge, wires, computer chip...all the essential items, more than enough bang to make it go 'boom', and an unknown amount of time until it exploded.

Whoever had built this bomb hadn't left a timer visible on it, and after a calming breath Allison reached in with her right hand to gently push the wires away, attempting to get a better look at things. With her left hand she typed, awkwardly and one-handedly, onto her omni-tool, scanning through schematics and files and just trying to find _something_ that would help her disarm this bomb.

_And what if there's more than one bomb?_

Allison squashed that thought the second it floated into mind. She took another calm, steadying breath and continued on. She frowned - while her omni-tool didn't recognise the design, she had recognised one aspect of it. There was a dummy switch, multiple wires leading into the detonation charge - a way to get people to back off, to avoid people aimlessly dealing with the bomb. If the wrong wire was cut or removed, the bomb would short-circuit and detonate anyway.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Allison moved back away from the bomb, continuing to scan on her omni-tool. After a few more seconds she shut it down, a scowl on her face.

There was no danger present, no civilians to ferry to safety, nothing but an empty city on a colony that was strangely silent. There was, technically, no reason other than structural damage to disarm the bomb. Allison glanced around her; the bomb wasn't exactly placed in a strategically important place, didn't look like it would cause a structural weakness in the surrounding areas, but still...

It _mocked_ her.

Her ICT had included bomb disarmament, among a whole host of other things. To be an N7, you needed to know a whole lot of stuff about a whole mess of things. Unfortunately, her less than technically-minded self relied upon omni-tool information to guide and direct her most of the time, and when it came up short...

Well, she ended up in situations like this.

She was really thankful no civilians were around.

She went back to the charge, looking around at it once more. There had to be countdown information somewhere, even if only just to tell the bomb when to explode. With comms. down, an external signal wouldn't go through and so it had to have been set up to detonate remotely.

She activated her omni-tool again, going a different route. Instead of trying to deactivate the bomb, she instead tried to hack into its systems, tried to access the routines.

And, to her complete and utter surprise, it worked.

She shifted through data, information that gave her specs on the bomb's design, its technical workings and links to the systems, and she hastily saved the data. Back in a less hazardous area she could go over it, analyse it and share with other people. Data on another type of bomb would be useful for other people like her, even if it meant that the bomb-makers would be alerted and be one step ahead.

Her omni-tool softly beeped and she looked back down at it. The screen changed, showing a clock quickly counting down.

_3...2...1..._

_Oh, shit-_


	16. Damage Assessment

A/N: Names of the parts of armour come from medieval plate harness armour.

**016. Damage Assessment**

_Date: October 2181_

Allison blinked slowly, casting cautious eyes around at her surroundings. She was flat on her back, staring up at the sky that was now very clear. The dust had been blown away, allowing the full force of the system's star to beat down on her.

She did a mental assessment of her body; nothing appeared to be amiss, and she tried to sit up. The armour around her was excessively heavy, and she could only lift up a few centimetres before knocking back onto the ground.

She tried lifting her left arm; heavy and almost immovable, but eventually she was able to lift it above her eyes, squinting as she looked at it.

No power readings.

She tried to activate her omni-tool, but only got a few flashes of orange before it too died. A faint flicker of concern about an EMP blast burrowed into her mind. She closed her eyes, sighed, and concentrated. When she opened her eyes, a faint wash of blue painted the area, and she felt her corona active.

Well, that ruled out the EMP; the other option was that the blast had knocked out her power system and also something in her omni-tool. She just hoped it was the power system; her omni-tool was new, bought with her own credits rather than Alliance-assigned, and she was not looking forward to replacing it after barely two months.

She let her left arm fall back to the ground, and shifted around. Digging her elbows into the ground she managed to just about lift herself up. The armour creaked as it did, and Allison winced at the sound. Finally, she managed to lift herself up enough to look in front of her.

She'd been directly in front of the bomb when it went off, and it had done a ton of damage to the front of the building. It was still standing, but had blasted an awful lot of rubble away, scattering everywhere.

Including one piece that had sliced through into her thigh. Allison managed to move her hand down, inspect the injury - outside of her leg, already patched up with medi-gel and painkillers no doubt coursing through her system. With power out, her mexo wouldn't be able to deliver any reports at all, nor would it automatically kick in with the next dose of painkiller when needed.

Allison clumsily made her mnemonic for a lift, directing it below her back. It managed to lift her up into a sitting position and she debated. The dust was cleared, little contaminants in the air from it that she could see. With her armour's power out, it would be a struggle getting anywhere with it on; without it, she ran the risk of running into more bombs with less than stellar protection.

She moved for the catches on her arms, stripping off her gloves and gauntlets, couter and rerebrace, leaving them in a pile beside her. Her arms free and unencumbered, she reached down to her right leg, careful not to jostle her left that much, and stripped off there too. Sabatons, greaves, poleyn, cuisse. She did the same with her left leg, taking more care with it. That left her with the armour on her chest, back, and her helmet - all the areas someone would try and shoot for a kill shot.

She got to her feet, gingerly testing her left leg. It offered no resistance to bearing her weight, and after scooping up her pistol she made back for the LZ.

[ - ]

With sweat starting to obscure her vision, she was starting to regret not taking off her helmet; instead, she compromised and removed the mask, allowing some of the planet's natural air to circulate around. It only did a miniscule amount of help, but it was enough to take the edge off.

While walking, Allison had fiddled with her omni-tool with her left hand, trying to get it up and running again. As suspected, the power was down and without the back-up power it took from her armour it was running with great difficulty. The most it offered up was a quick flicker of orange before dying down again, and after the tenth time it had happened she abandoned her efforts, concentrating on checking for other enemies, bombs, or even just other people.

She practically skidded into the LZ, looking around in vain. She heaved a sigh; it would just be her luck for her first post-N7 qualification mission to be one where she had to survive on a planet until she got picked up by a passing scout in a few weeks' time.

Allison's ears pricked up as she heard the faint whirring of engines; she backed up a bit, enough so that she could dive into cover if it turned out to be an enemy ship. Her shoulders slumped in relief as she saw the Alliance markings on it, stepping forward and doing a two-armed wave to draw attention to her.

[ - ]

"Disappeared?" Allison said, looking at Staff Commander Kacin. "That's not possible."

"It is," he said, sliding across a couple of data pads to Allison. He waited until she'd picked them up and started reading before continuing on. "We received a broadcast before comms. were cut - one of the teams investigating reported no civilians in the area whatsoever. Then the ground teams all went silent at the same time."

"Why no investigation?" Allison frowned, looking over the top of the data pad. "If they all went silent at the same time -"

"One of the ground teams had requested radio silence; we naturally assumed no danger until a check-in time passed without any notification. That's when we got suspicious and investigated. When we found you. Alone."

Allison dropped the data pad and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "The place didn't feel right. I thought I saw something and went to investigate." Allison glanced down at the data pads. "Why would a whole colony disappear?"

"They had a lot of biotic children there. I'd bet that had something to do with it." Kacin looked at her. "We're lucky to have found you."


	17. In The Storm

**017. In The Storm**

_Date: May 2174_

Allison held a hand in front of her face; knowing that her helmet and mask would ensure nothing got through, it was still a habit as the sand around her began to swirl up with ferocity. Dark clouds above seemed to appear out of nowhere, rolling in with incredible speed.

"How're the repairs going?" Allison yelled, trying to be heard above the whipping wind. It blasted past her helmet-covered ears, drowning out almost every other sound around. Even through the comms. things were a struggle, and she had to strain to be able to focus on the response.

"Still no luck. Engine's too clogged up with sand. We'll have to wait until the storm dies down to try again!"

A rumble of thunder followed Corporal Ibrahim's report, and Allison jerked her head up to look at the sky. Sheet lightning was crossing the clouds, followed quickly by thunder. Allison frowned, narrowing her eyes as she assessed it.

"Both of you, back in the Grizzly!"

Allison took a step back before turning and jogging back to the vehicle; no tech skills, Lieutenant McCord had ordered her to stand watch, although quite what he expected her to see on a deserted planet she wasn't sure.

She reached the door of the Grizzly just as McCord was climbing in, and she slipped in after him, moving to one of the back seats. Amos was already loading up the control panel in front of the passenger side, swiping across screens and searching for information.

"Storms here pass within a few hours," McCord said, pulling his helmet off. He ran a hand through his blond hair before flattening it down, turning so that both Allison and Ibrahim were in his field of vision. "We stay here, hunker down, and we can move on when the storm passes."

Given the speed the storm had approached, Allison had little reason to doubt that it would disappear just as quickly. She undid the latch on her helmet and pulled it off, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair to settle it back down. She nestled her helmet on the floor between her feet and leaned forwards, looking out the front window. Another rumble of thunder sounded, seeming almost louder inside the vehicle than out.

Lightning cracked in front of them, drawing a shocked yelp from Ibrahim. It was a good distance away but still close enough to have burned an after-image into Allison's eyes. She squeezed them shut, trying to erase the image.

A loud bang sounded above them, drawing both Ibrahim and Allison's attention upwards. A second bang followed, then a third. Looking back out the front window Allison saw that it had started raining - of course. They were on a high-gravity planet.

Allison shuffled back in her seat, inclining backwards. Ibrahim had gone back to scanning the screens, and McCord simply stared out the front window, arms folded across his chest. She sighed, toying with the idea of loading up her omni-tool and searching for a game she could play without drawing too much attention to herself for it.

When she decided that, no, playing games on duty was too much of a distraction, she instead loaded up her omni-tool and scanned through her list of books that she'd copied onto it. Most were for reading during boring shifts. She hid a scowl as she scrolled through the list, noting that she needed to swap out her collection at some point - she'd read the majority she had on her.

A couple of quick taps and she loaded up _The Count of Monte Cristo_, adjusting the projection and text size to settings she was comfortable with. She settled her arm into a decent position and began reading.

After a while Ibrahim paused in his study of the screens and he mimicked McCord, staring out the window. A short while after that, however, he opened up his own omni-tool and loaded something up - a game, Allison noted, laughing internally.

McCord glanced over as Ibrahim's omni-tool cast a dull orange glow in the front of the Grizzly, but he turned back without saying anything, returning to his weather-watching vigil. The rain had let up slightly, now sounding more like garden-variety Earth rain than that on a high-gravity planet...or so she assumed, having never actually experienced Earth rain first-hand when she would have been old enough to remember it with any clarity.

"What're you playing?" McCord asked after a few more minutes, making Ibrahim jump.

"I, uh...just a game one of my cousins made, sir. She put it up on some indie sites, getting some money from it." He smiled. "She's fifteen."

McCord made a sound that could have almost been taken for a snort, and they all settled back down in their prior positions. The clouds were still grey and looming, lightning and thunder still rolling and sounding across.

Allison returned her attention back to her novel, spending a few seconds trying to find her place again. Once found, she continued on reading, now attuned to the little blips and notes from Ibrahim's omni-tool.

McCord opened up his omni-tool and browsed through a few things quickly before shutting it down again. He shifted in his seat, still looking out the window.

"So, Shepard, what are you doing?" McCord said.

"Uh, reading. Sir."

McCord turned around to look at her, eyes quickly flicking to her omni-tool. She frowned; did he not believe her? He moved back to his seat, facing out to the storm once again.

"Anything good?"

"_The Counte of Monte Cristo._"

"Huh." McCord chuckled. "Read that myself when I was a recruit. Certainly keeps you busy. How far have you gotten?"

"Only just started reading it."

"Well, keep at it. It's a good book."

McCord shifted in his seat; he grabbed his helmet and put it back on, the click of the lock drawing the attention of both Allison and Ibrahim. McCord opened the door to the Grizzly and got out, standing by the open door for a short while.

"Storm's stopping. Come on, we need to get repairs done and get moving again."


	18. Stars

**018. Stars**

_Date: March 21__71_

Allison shrieked a little as arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet slightly. When she was firmly back on solid ground she closed her locker and turned around to see Finn grinning at her. She hoisted her backpack up further on her shoulder, but when Finn refused to say anything she sighed.

"Okay, what?"

Finn's grin grew wider. "Supposed to be a new moon tonight. You want to hike up the hill and do some stargazing?"

Allison paused, hesitating. She had to remember that most of the people at this school were colonists. Most of their parents, too; she doubted many had really made trips off-world other than for vacations or the occasional work request.

"Sure." Allison smiled, hooking her left arm through the free strap and hoisting her bag up further. "When?"

"I'll pick you up at ten. Wear comfortable shoes. You don't have a curfew to worry about, right?" Finn's grin mirrored her own. "And it's not like a school night..."

"I look forward to it."

The school bell rung and Allison said a quick goodbye; she split off and headed to the right, Finn to the left. The walls of the school gleamed so much Allison swore they shined, and the old displays were in the process of being taken down and replaced with new ones. The school had acquired prints of some local, semi-famous artists and were hurriedly plastering them up everywhere they could, although whether as a show of support for a local artist or boasting that a semi-famous artist lived there was debatable.

Allison skidded to a halt in front of the classroom, ignoring the looks she had been getting from people. A few mutters started up, but quickly died down as the classroom door opened and people began filing in. Allison took up her usual spot in the corner of the classroom, close to the teacher but with her back to the entire room. She tried to concentrate, but slightly giddy thoughts of stargazing continued to creep into her mind.

[ - ]

Finn had a wide grin on his face as he held Allison's hand. The streets were practically empty, every other streetlight turned off in an effort to conserve energy. No cars passed by anywhere, and only the barest sprinkling of people walking by, most of them likely heading home or to work a night shift.

"You been stargazing before?" Finn asked, pausing and gently tugging on Allison's hand as he moved to cross the road. She followed his actions, waiting until they were on the other side before replying.

"No. I didn't really need to; I could sit up on one of the observation decks of stations and look out the window."

"Oh." Finn's face fell slightly. "Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. Your parents are in the Navy." He paused, eyes looking off into the distance as he thought. "You've been to a lot of places then?"

"More than most."

"What's the best thing about it?"

"Going somewhere new." Allison turned to smile at Finn. He grinned and winked at her before letting go of her hand.

"Here we go." Finn stopped by an old-style metal sign that proudly stated 'Greenvale Park', illuminated by a low-powered light. There was a token fence running around the park, only a few feet high and easily vaultable if someone had the mind to do so. "Come on," he added, taking Allison's hand again and walking forwards through a large intentional gap in the fence, slightly dragging her along. She quickened her pace and soon was walking beside him once again along the gravel path.

The park was a small gem of green in amongst the commercial buildings - perfectly kept, trees planted at almost equidistant spots, and carefully positioned clumps of flowers. There was no sign of any playground equipment - this was a park for relaxing, to find a modicum of peace in an urban area.

"I know some constellations, but from here they're all going to be messed up? I mean, the constellations we learn about only are true from Earth, right?"

"Pretty much." The path began to incline upwards, Finn continuing on ahead and Allison holding back slightly. As the path inclined, it started to grow more twisted up until the point where to go a metre higher it seemed you needed to walk five meters around. Allison hadn't thought Finn serious when he said about 'hiking' up the hill rather than 'walking', nor his comment about wearing sensible shoes.

As they reached the top of the hill, the trees fell away leaving the top covered in grass and with a small gravel area with benches and a couple of picnic tables. Like the streets, the area was empty, and with no nearby illumination it was also quite dark.

"See? Perfect spot for stargazing." Finn let go of Allison's hand and moved forwards, sitting down on the edge of the gravel. He stretched his legs out in front of him and his arms above him. He placed his arms behind him, leaning back slightly, and looked up at Allison.

"So? You joining me?"

Allison laughed slightly, moving to sit by Finn. She mirrored his own position and looked up to scan the sky. The brightest stars in the sky were easily visible, and as she kept her gaze focused on them more came into view as she grew accustomed to the light level.

"So I _think_ that might be part of the Big Dipper..." Finn said, pointing up at the constellation. Allison followed his gaze up.

"Yeah, that's the Big Dipper. Probably one of the only constellations you'll be able to make out here."

"All right. So..." Finn turned to look at Allison. "You gonna point out to me where you've been in your travels?"

"If you're expecting me to pin-point the exact stars-"

Finn waved his hand dismissively before looking back up at the sky. "Just the area will do. I'm curious, never been off-planet."

Allison smiled. "Okay then. Where I've been..."


	19. Strange Fruit

**019. Strange Fruit**

_Date: January 2159_

Allison eyed up the items on the kitchen table, then looked to her mum. She was busy doing...something that adults did on high counter-tops, and being not quite yet six years old she was in no way tall enough to see. She moved back, folding her arms and pouting, wincing when her arm twinged. The visit to the doctor had been very early yesterday morning, and she shouldn't have still been hurting from where the doctor took some of her blood.

Allison pouted again. Her mum was never busy when she was home, that was the promise. Same with her dad. But the kitchen with its new stuff was taking attention away, during summer vacation as well.

Hannah moved slightly, looking down at Allison with her brown eyes. Allison kept up her pout and Hanna laughed softly. She picked up something from the counter and handed it to Allison. It was a bowl.

"Why don't you go watch some vids while I finish up in here?" Hannah said as Allison took the bowl and looked down into it. Allison frowned. The bowl was full of little red spiky...things.

"What are these?" Allison said, looking up at Hannah.

"Lychees. Here." Hannah took one and cracked open the red shell, showing a see-through white thing underneath. "I need to make a call then I'll be with you. Promise."

"Can we make a cake?"

Hannah laughed. "Sure, sweetie. Now hurry along."

Allison took the bowl with her into the living room, plunking down in the middle of the room and began looking over the fruit. She took the one her mum had cracked open slightly and peeled off the rest of the shell. She sucked the fruit into her mouth and bit down hard.

She heard a sharp _crack_ and spat the fruit back out into her hand. Looking at it, she could see a small almost black stone in the middle. Frowning, she began to peel the flesh off and munched on that, tossing the stone back into the bowl when it was clean.

Allison turned the screen on and flicked through the channels. She settled on a cartoon and sat watching as she ate.

[ - ]

Hannah waited for the terminal to connect, arms laying gently across her front, hands cupping her elbows. The return on the blood test had been quick, much quicker than she had anticipated, and the doctor had called when Allison had been down for a nap.

The call connected and Hannah let out a sigh of relief. "Hi, honey."

Dominick looked surprised. "Is everything okay? How's Allison?"

"Allison's fine. She had another check-up yesterday. I just got the results back."

"And?"

"No markers for tumours, and no sign of any mutant nodules. The doctor also asked me if we'd noticed any oddities around Allison. In regards to biotic abilities," she added, seeing Dominick open his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say anything." Dominick held his hands up in surrender, a smile on his face. "How is Allison doing, anyway?"

Hannah sighed, running a hand through her brown hair. "She's...okay. She still don't understand why she needs to go to the doctor so often, but she doesn't complain about it."

"Well, we're over six and a half years since the accident, I think we can walk back on our worries."

"Hah. You might be able to, but..." Hannah looked over at the doorway that linked the kitchen and the living room. "I still worry, Dominick. I still worry that one day a doctor's going to call up and say our little girl has inoperable, terminal cancer."

"I know, I know." Dominick sighed. "My rotation will be finished in three days, then I've got some well-earned shore leave. How about we go somewhere quiet, the three of us."

Hannah smiled. "Have you got anywhere in mind?"

"Well...I was thinking about going to visit Earth. Unless you had somewhere else in mind?"

"Earth is fine. Anywhere specific?"

"Canada."

[ - ]

Allison looked up as her mum walked into the living room. Unlike normal where she scolded Allison for not sitting on the sofa, Hannah instead sat herself down next to Allison, taking one of the lychees that was still in the bowl. Hannah didn't say anything until the next commercial break.

"I'm planning a vacation. How do you feel about going to Canada?"

Allison shrugged. She didn't really know much about Earth, so for her one place was pretty much like the other. "What's it like?"

"Oh, everyone always thinks there's loads of snow there all the time, but that's not true. It's a nice place with lots of fun things to do."

"Really?" Allison was now only talking to be polite, finishing off the last lychee. She absently played with the shell, breaking and crushing it into smaller pieces.

"Yup. You dad will be coming with us, too."

Allison looked up, surprised and disbelieving. "Dad's coming home?"

"Only for a short while, but he's looking forward to seeing you again." Hannah moved an arm around Allison's shoulders. Allison dumped the bowl on the carpet and scooted closer. "It'll be nice having the whole family around, won't it?"

"Yeah." Allison smiled softly. "When's he coming home?"

"In a few days. Which means that I know a _someone_ whose room could do with tidying up before he gets home!"

Allison's shoulders slumped, and the pout appeared back on her face as she crossed her arms. "Tidying my room is _boring_."

"Oh, I know it is, but you know you need to keep it tidy." Hannah moved, nudging Allison to stand up. Once Allison had done so, Hannah also go to her feet. "How about we make a deal? If I help you tidy your room, you can help me make that cake you wanted."

Allison paused, considering. On the one hand, boring thing to do. On the other, helping to make the cake she wanted.

"All right." Allison sighed. "But only if it's a chocolate cake."

"I don't think you'd want me to make anything else. Now, come on." Hannah nudged Allison towards her room. "I want everything tidied up."


	20. Tears

**020. Tears**

_Date: February 2173_

Allison paused where she was, keenly aware of the people all around her. This was a communal communication port, one used by anyone who passed by. Currently, that meant a large number of Alliance soldiers seeing as the _SSV Trafalgar_ had pulled into port for a few days, giving everyone some liberty while the ship restocked on essential items.

It had also been the first time in three months Allison had really had much time to herself, and her first instinct had been to go and call Finn. Things had started out decently enough, Allison enquiring after Hanna and Finn enquiring about Allison's work, then Finn dropped the bombshell.

"I don't think this is going to work, Allison."

She was hunched forwards, a disbelieving look on her face. Behind her, people moved and jostled, chatting and eating and drinking and thinking and looking and studying. Her breathing was oddly even, a deliberate attempt to not think about things, and there wasn't even a hint of a corona that flickered up during her bouts of heightened emotion.

There was nothing; her brain refused to process it.

Finn looked as guilty as she had ever seen him, his black hair even longer than the last time she had seen him, curling down his neck. As the seconds ticked by he looked away, pain etched on his face.

"What isn't going to work?" Allison finally found her voice, but with the way it cracked out she wished she hadn't. The only consolation was the soundproofing around the ports - nothing Finn was saying would communicate out, and only if someone stood behind her would they hear what she was saying.

They'd all notice a display of emotions, though.

"You, me. Us." Finn sighed. "I thought we could, you know? You'd go on rotation on a ship, do some groundside work, I'd study and get my degree. We'd meet up in places, talk about how things had been going-"

"We've been _doing_ those things! Finn, I last saw you four months ago and-"

"Yeah, that's just it." Finn's expression darkened. "I last saw you four months ago. Since then I've got a handful of vid-mails and one call." He waved his hand to indicate the port, as if his meaning wasn't already clear. "I knew this would be tough, but I just didn't think it would be _this_ tough. Not for me."

"Finn..."

Finn sighed again. "How do people manage this? Honestly. How do people manage to keep and maintain relationships when stuff like this happens?" Finn collapsed back in his chair, running his hands over his face.

"Finn, you know this is important to me..."

"Yeah. It's more important to you than I am."

Allison flinched, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip slightly. "It's not like that. Christ, Finn." _I should have seen this coming._ "This is my _job_. While I'm here, I have to prioritise it above everything else. When I'm not-"

"You're still only a few weeks away from needing to get back to work. You know what? Forget it. Just...forget it. Forget us. We were never gonna last, not when you said about going into the marines."

"I'm sorry, Finn."

"So am I. Goodbye, Allison."

Finn ended the call before Allison could say anything more, the screen in front of her going black. She sighed, leaning forwards and letting her forehead rest on her arms. She closed her eyes and stayed like that for a short while, thinking of nothing but her breathing, counting on each inhale and exhale. When she knew she couldn't stay for longer without attracting attention she vacated the port, someone sliding in almost the moment she left.

Allison wandered about for a bit before pausing at one of the observation areas. Open to the public, they allowed them to see sections of shuttles and ships arriving and departing, as well as views into deep space. For some people, gazing out and knowing that the tiny little dot thirty-five degrees to the west was where Earth was was a startling, if not horrifying fact; for Allison, she just tracked across the view to pinpoint areas she had visited.

For her, the view of space was home.

[ - ]

Six weeks later found Allison standing in a small but posh hotel room in Bekenstein's capital, Milgrom. Despite the size it had been rented out as a double. Allison hadn't had time to change her booking, and even if she had she would have been stung for a similar amount of money.

She had managed to get a partial refund on one of her shuttle tickets to Bekenstein; not quite as much as she had been expecting, but it was still some money back in her pocket. That had gone towards her vacation money, set aside for semi-frivolous purchases while she was there.

Initially, a week had seemed like a short time to spend on the colony, but as she looked out the city from the balcony it seemed almost too long a time to spend there. Most of Milgrom's entertainment was marketed at those with a good amount of money, and tourists either ensured they had a similar amount of money with them, or went without.

Allison would be one who went without.

[ - ]

She returned to the hotel room very late on her first night, feet aching and sore. She'd chosen to walk around Migrom, initially to see the sights she could without paying for them, then to drive out thoughts and regrets, then to exhaust herself so she wouldn't have space to think of anything at all. She took her boots off and flung them unceremoniously beside the bed, closing the curtains before stripping off further. A quick five-minute shower and a change into sleepwear later, she laid down on the bed, eyes closed.

Despite her exhaustion, her mind still wouldn't stop working. She sighed, opened her eyes, and rolled onto her side, allowing her thoughts to filter through. For the first time in six weeks, since she'd got the call from Finn, she allowed the tears to flow.


	21. Accident

**021. Accident**

_Date: January 2170_

Allison shut the door of her locker, trying not to overhear the gossip going on five lockers down. She knew exactly what they were talking about and didn't really need to hear the wild speculation and theories that were being bandied about.

Allison stuffed her English Lit book into her backpack, zipping up and throwing it over her shoulder, starting to make her way through the corridors of the school. Paint was peeling, numerous temporary classrooms stacked outside...this area of Benning hadn't dealt well with the unexpectedly high numbers of children, and the school was being squeezed tight because of it.

She wiped a hand across her forehead - a spaceship had exploded in atmo, and the next day her body decided it was the perfect time to give her a low-grade fever. It had been present for over two days, staying as a constant presence, jumping up every so often to remind her that it was still there.

Arriving at her next class a little early, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. The plaster and paint was cool against her forehead, and she absently wondered just how much longer the fever was going to last.

"Hey, you okay?" Someone spoke the instant a hand rested on her shoulder, and Allison opened her eyes and looked at Lisbeth.

"I'm fine." Allison shrugged off Lisbeth's hand. She smiled a few seconds later when Lisbeth continued to look at her, a mix of concern and confusion. "Really. I'll be back to normal in a couple of days."

The bell for next period rang, the door to the classroom opening a few seconds later and people pouring out. The general murmurings knocked against Allison, starting up a small headache at the base of her skull. She grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck as the room cleared and she walked in.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Lisbeth said as she slipped into the seat next to Allison, pulling her books out. "I can go get the nurse -"

"I said I'm fine." Allison had intended it to come out stronger than it did, with conviction rather than a harsh whisper. The look Lisbeth gave her said she didn't believe it - any of it - but chose to focus on the class.

Towards the end of the class, Allison's vision started to swim. She shook her head a couple of times, trying to get her vision to settle back to normal, but those attempts all failed.

Allison raised her hand. "Miss Brady?"

The teacher turned, almost ready to reprimand Allison for the interruption, but faltered when she looked at Allison, eyes going slightly wide.

"May I head to the nurse's office? I'm afraid I'm not feeling too well."

Miss Brady nodded, and as Allison struggled to stand up Lisbeth jumped out of her seat. "Can I go with her?" Lisbeth said.

Allison got to her feet, took two steps, and the room tilted upside down.

[ - ]

Allison opened her eyes blearily, mind processing things at half speed. She blinked slowly, exhaling, then her eyes snapped open. Panic rushed through her system and she sat up, scanning her unfamiliar surroundings. Alarms blared from behind her, and in front of her things began...began to _move_.

Allison began to hyperventilate, gaze dashing about everywhere. The room was white, sterile, a single closed window and light blue curtains closed against sun. There was nothing identifying in the room, no personal effects, just a bare-topped chest of drawers, a simple light, and the bed she was lying in, also light blue. The room she was in began to become covered in a strong blue tinge, and she raised her hands to brush over her face. Nothing was there, but her hands...

She pulled them back, looking down at them. They were _glowing_. Glowing _blue_.

Allison leaned forwards, arms wrapping around her chest as her breathing increased even more. Her hair fell about her eyes but she made no motion to brush it back. She closed her eyes, rocking forwards, her arms starting to tingle, go numb.

_What's going on?!_

Pounding footsteps sounded, and Allison opened her eyes and looked up to see a couple of people moving quickly towards her. One held her shoulders, pushing her back onto the bed. Another grabbed one of her arms, a syringe in hand.

Before she could think, ask what was going on, the sedative had worked its way through her body.

[ - ]

The next time she woke up, it was under more controlled circumstances. Her mind was blurry, motions slow and weak, but there was something familiar in the room.

Her mother.

"Hi, sweetheart." Hannah stood up and moved forwards, a sad smile on her face. She leaned over the bed, brushing a hand over Allison's hair, Allison noting a few unshed tears in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm..." Allison shifted, blinking her eyes a few times, trying to get a sense of what had happened. "What happened?"

Hannah paused in her motions and took a step back. She retrieved the chair she had been sitting on and pulled it closer to the bed. Hannah settled down and clasped Allison's left hand in both of hers.

"Do you remember me telling you about the spaceship accident when I was pregnant with you?"

Allison frowned, digging through memories, pulling them out of the molasses lake that was her mind at that moment. "Yeah...eezo exposure turning kids into biotics."

"Well..." Hannah paused, rubbing a hand over Allison's. "It...some children who don't exhibit biotic abilities can, under specific circumstances." Hannah sighed. "A second exposure to element zero can mean some children who were born without biotic abilities can gain them later in life."

"Gain...?" Allison's heart started racing again, the monitor behind her picking up the frequency of bleeps. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been in a coma for a week, sweetheart. Ten days since the ship exploded in orbit. The doctors want to run some tests when you're feeling better, but...you've got biotic abilities now."


	22. Dreams

**022. Dreams**

_Date: November 2181_

Allison leaned back on her hands, legs stuck through the gaps in the fence in front of her. She looked like a little kid, but she didn't care. The city was dark and almost silent, and few people would be interested in looking up and watching her.

The events at Ganus had been swirling around her mind for the past two months. During missions, on assignments, or just doing something she could push it to the back of her mind and concentrate on other things. _Warsaw _ had been busy enough trying to find their missing crew, and although Allison knew she was being shorted on missions to actually find them, she said nothing about it.

She'd done assessments, assignments, recordings, writings with the staff psychiatrist, all the needed information. She was an N7, yes, but still human and could act and/or respond in a myriad of different ways, and it was the responsibility of Captain Tosell to ensure Allison got the care she needed.

Her talent for getting into such situations seemed to link themselves to forced shore leave for her, however.

Allison sighed and shifted positions, leaning on her fisted right hand. She'd loaded up a quick programme with a number of places for shore leave, leaving it up to chance to decide where she'd be staying. When it had flickered up _Earth_ she'd frowned, debated, tempted to call it a void choice. Then she sighed, put in another selection of placed, and randomised the programme again.

It had chosen Tokyo for her.

It was well approaching the later hours of the morning, towards a time when people would be considering getting up, starting their day. For Allison, the next day didn't start until she either woke up after sleeping or saw the sun rise; as she hadn't yet been able to get any decent sleep, she was still counting it as the previous day.

The neon beacons streaming all around the city almost reminded her of the more crowded areas of Gagarin station. There was a small area tucked in away from the docking bays that almost paid tribute to cities like this, with neon advertisements and supposedly-enthralling night life. On a station, night was whenever the higher-ups decided, while on planets it was whenever the rotation of the planet decreed it would be. It was nice to sit on the balcony, watching people and vehicles pass by, knowing that in a few hours Sol would rise of its own accord.

A light breeze whispered by, tugging at Allison's hair. She tucked it behind her ear quickly - it was starting to get long, almost touching her collar. Mark that as another thing she needed to do before her shore leave ended - she hated the feeling of a ponytail or bun in helmets, the pressure against the back of her head. Much better for her to keep it short for many more reasons than deal with the uncomfortable feeling.

She let out a slow breath, closing her eyes briefly. As had happened multiple times before, the same scene played itself in her head - heading back to the LZ at Ganus, seeing it empty. The bomb, exploding in front of her.

It was certifiably not PTSD. She wasn't being triggered into these thoughts, didn't experience any kind of stress or heightened negative emotions, just...her brain wouldn't let her stop thinking about it.

Allison moved to stand on her feet, pausing and resting her hands on the top of the fence for a second. After one final look out into the city, she moved back inside, closing the sliding doors behind her.

[ - ]

Three hours later, Allison was pacing across the small bedroom. Deep brown and dark red, it was meticulously decorated, yet she still saw Ganus when she closed her eyes. Dreams had crashed against her mind, distorting and warping events beyond those she knew had happened. She had been killed, abducted, or just disappeared into the dust, never to return.

She reached the sliding doors and spun on the ball of her bare foot, facing the opposite direction in a split second. She flicked her green eyes around, trying to find something to focus on, her mind flicking through all that she knew, all that she could recall, to focus her on something.

_All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail! I come to answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, to swim, to dive into the fire, to ride on the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality._

She reached the end of the bedroom and once again turned one-eighty to move the other way. Lines from _The Tempest_ continued to roll around in Allison's mind, focusing her. The images drove out of her mind, replaced by those of an old vid she'd scrounged, showing a puppetry version of the play. The effects were dated and decrepit, even by the standards of when it was made, but the charm had wormed its way into her heart where not even time could dislodge its place.

Allison paused, stopping her mental recounting of the play. No images of the city flooded back into her mind, and she sighed with relief. Her mind was blank, clean, no thoughts etched on it.

She moved back to her bed, straightening up the covers where they'd became twisted either through her dreams or frustration at being unable to sleep. She slipped under them, curling up and slipping an arm up underneath her pillow. She looked out of the sliding doors, seeing the faint flickers of a sunrise painted on the sky.

Good morning, Tokyo. Welcome to a new day.

She allowed herself a soft sigh and closed her eyes, settling down in the bed. Even if she only got a few restful hours of sleep, it would be enough to last her until that evening. As the minutes ticked by, her brain was surprisingly silent and she smiled.

Huh.

Maybe she should make a note to find a copy of the vid next time she was on shore leave.


	23. Limiting

**023. Limiting**

_Date: July 2176_

Allison grunted as she reached out for the bars in front of her, her right leg protesting at the movement. She stepped forward - slid, more accurately, her right foot still stubbornly refusing to move as it should, dragging across the floor.

She moved forwards two more steps before her right leg gave out beneath her, the nurse hurriedly grabbing her and moving her back to the wheelchair. She heard a brief mutter of 'stubborn' but ignored it - to Allison, it wasn't a pejorative but instead a statement of simple fact. Stubbornness had kept her moving through Elysium, past pain and exhaustion, past seeing dead civilians and fallen comrades. Stubbornness had made damn sure that both she and Elysium were able to stand tall.

The nurse moved her back to the hospital bed with a few comforting words. Allison didn't pay attention to them, knowing what was likely being said. Calming platitudes, reassurances that her leg wasn't damaged beyond repair, that it would heal up to be just as functional as it was before Elysium. She knew all of that already.

[ - ]

Allison was just thankful for medical advances meaning that a gunshot wound was a reconstruction surgery, some shots to encourage wound knitting, and quick physio. The reduced hospital time meant reduced physio needs, in turn meaning people were able to be discharged from medical centres and hospitals a lot quicker than in days gone by.

She was counting down the days until her own discharge, transfer to Terra Nova already booked and confirmed, just waiting for her to get out of the hospital.

[ - ]

If anyone noticed that Allison slightly favoured her left leg, or that she would occasionally list to the right when exhausted or after a strenuous mission, no one cared to mention it. She was almost revered when she came back onto _Emden_, people who'd she'd known for months watching her as she moved through the CIC, the mess, the quarters...just _anywhere_. She'd tucked away her Star of Terra in her sea bag after barely a day back on the ship, fully sick and tired of all the salutes that had been passed her way when she made her way through the ship.

She blew a lock of her hair out of her eyes as she poked her food with a spork. She'd been cautioned to keep up her energy levels, even more so than usual, but her appetite had seemed to disappear after Elysium, and nothing she was doing seemed to be enough to get it back.

"Hey." Allison looked up to see Jensen sliding up next to her, a tray of food in his hands. He was a good few years older than her, strawberry blond hair, dark brown eyes, and medium-toned skin. He was also one of the engineers on the ship, starting up a friendly conversation when Allison had wandered down one day to be nosy.

"Hey, Jensen. What's up?"

"Smetzer's being a blow-hard." Jensen quickly began wolfing down his own food. "Keeps on refuting the claims we're making that the eezo core is just fine. Doesn't agree with us unless we agree with him."

Allison smiled. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"Pisses me off." Jensen took a huge swig of his drink, downing almost half of it in one go. "Tasha's wanting me to help her re-check everything." Another swig, and his tumbler was almost empty.

"That why you're acting like a biotic who hasn't eaten in three days?"

"Ha!" Jensen pointed his spork at Allison. "You're one to talk."

Allison raised an eyebrow and made a pointed show of looking at Jensen's almost-empty tray, and her own which was almost untouched.

Jensen shrugged and polished off the last of his food, grabbing his tray and quickly standing up. "So, yeah. Can't stick around. See you at liberty tonight?"

"Can't. Doing a double shift."

Jensen paused. "With your shit leg? C'mon, Allison. Be reasonable."

Allison looked up at Jensen, glaring. "My leg is not 'shit', all right? I took a bullet and it's still healing, but it's not _shit_."

Jensen shrugged. "Sure. That's the reason Cap hasn't allowed you on ground missions since you got back." He walked away, depositing his tray in the disposal area before disappearing around the corner. Allison followed his movements, glaring daggers into his back with her fists clenched. No show of a biotic corona - she was beginning to get a very good lid on those - but all the other aspects of her body language showed that she was not someone to be interrupted at that point in time.

Allison returned to her food but after another five minutes of poking at it and not really eating, she disposed of it and made her way quickly to the gym area in the ship. She paused by her footlocker, grabbed her gym clothing and quickly changed in the womens' quarters.

The gym was silent - not too much of a surprise as the majority of the ground team was on-ground, scouting out a planet. Allison didn't know why they were there, but Jensen's comment as to why she wasn't with them had more truth in it than she had liked to admit. Her prediction that she wouldn't be allowed on a ship tour for a few months after Elysium was unfounded, but the brass was sure as hell making sure she didn't set foot a planet until they were certain she was back up to task.

Allison moved to a punching bag, checking that it was set up how she wanted it, and backed up. A few minutes later she had tape around her knuckles, testing out a few experimental punches. She moved on to a couple of low kicks, keeping her left leg stable as she moved her right leg through the motions, keeping the winces off her face as her leg protested.

She switched to kicking with her left leg, but as soon as her left foot left the ground, she knew it was a mistake. Her right leg collapsed under her, and while she managed to avoid sprawling onto the floor her right knee still hit the floor, hard.

_I'm not limited, just...adjusting_.

She knew that was just a lie she told herself.


	24. Drive

**024.** **Drive**

_Date: September 2172_

Allison looked over Gunnery Chief Bulson's shoulder nervously. She and two other relatively new recruits were in the cargo bay, watching over the armoury area but also the giant hunk of a machine in front of them.

Bulson moved forwards and turned around, facing the new recruits. He'd already armoured up, speaking through his open helmet to them. "This is the M-29 Grizzly. For planet drops, it'll soon become your best friend if you treat it right.

"The Grizzly is designed for low-orbit drops where a ship might not be able to land due to hostilities or other events. Its heavily armoured, allowing it to withstand a high degree of damage, and contains an eezo core and thrusters to ensure you don't splat when you drop."

Bulson paced slightly before stilling again. "By the end of this week, I want all three of you to have completed at least one successful Mako drop. I don't care how many attempts it takes, how long it takes, or how many meals you skip -" he looked explicitly at Allison "-but you _will_ perform a successful drop. Arkin, Ringer, Shepard. Go suit up."

Allison gnawed the inside of her cheek. How long had it been since she'd passed her driver's test? Two years at the very least, and she'd had very little practical experience since then. She could only hope, as she pulled on her light-class armour, that she'd be able to go second or third and see how someone else managed the drop first.

She grabbed her helmet and tucked it under her left arm, walking back to Bulson with fake confidence. Arkin and Ringer followed her not long after.

"Arkin, tighten up your chest piece. I can see a gap a mile wide from here," Bulkin said as Arkin moved to stand beside Allison. Arkin checked the seals on her chest plate, seeing the gap Bulkin had commented on, and moved to fix it.

Bulson looked directly at Allison, and she swore that in the few seconds it took for him to do so time dilated, allowing her to see the motions in exquisite slow motion.

"Shepard. You'll be dropping first."

[ - ]

Allison looked around the myriad of sensory data being fed into the Grizzly. Bulson was next to her, checking over the information, but she couldn't help looking over and getting a hint of sensory overload. The Grizzly was a stick-shift, old fashioned manual gear changes and Allison had to wonder about the logistics of that. For her, all it meant was one more thing that needed to be checked over, remembered, and maintained.

"All present in Grizzly. Open doors, prepare for drop." Bulson looked back over at Allison and gave a small nod. "Take it nice and easy for your first attempt. Remember where the mass adjuster is and your jets."

_Mass adjuster and jets, right_. Allison's eyes flicked over the controls, finding both of the items Bulson had talked about. She quickly checked the settings, ensuring both were neutral, and looked through the front screen.

The cargo bay doors were opening slowly, and once there was more than enough room to get the Grizzly through Allison started up the engine. She adjusted quickly, checking over the systems, and put the vehicle into first gear.

The Grizzly roared and jerked forwards, Allison adjusting as necessary to keep smooth movement going. The distance to the cargo bay doors was straight, needing only slight adjustments on the wheel to keep them lined up. Allison edged the Grizzly forwards until the front wheels were almost off the doors, the nose in atmo. The ship was still, a wide, flat LZ beneath them, and although she knew it was only short distance down, it still looked horrifyingly distant.

Allison glanced back, seeing Arkin and Ringer on opposite sides of the back seat. Arkin looked like she was going to throw up any second, a green tinge already around her mouth, while Ringer gave Allison a grin and a cheesy thumbs-up.

_Here goes..._Allison took a deep breath and gunned the engine. The Grizzly shook and seconds later they were free-falling. Allison kept her foot on the accelerator, changing up gears as the revs increased in pitch, and flicked her fingers over the mass adjuster. The read-out showed a decrease of thirty percent of mass, and she slammed a hand onto the control for the jets. A low roar sounded beneath them, almost like the roar of a blowtorch.

Allison switched to look out the front window, seeing the ground approaching fast...too fast. She dialled up the negative current to the mass adjuster, reducing the mass by a further ten percent, increased the thrust of the jets, but neither seemed to have an impact on their approach velocity.

The Grizzly slammed down nose-first, pitching everyone inside forwards. Allison's helmet banged against the roof, the majority of the impact adjusted but still knocking her head around a bit. She yanked her foot off the accelerator and let the Grizzly slow to a halt a couple of hundred metres away from the ship. A hand instinctively went up to her helmet, despite knowing she couldn't rub the wound better through it, and she looked back.

Arkin looked even more green, and she'd even pulled off her helmet and held it in front of her. She had her eyes closed, taking deep, steadying breaths. Ringer's devil-grin had disappeared, but he seemed to be more full of curiosity, looking out the side window at the planet they were now on.

"Arkin, you okay?" Bulson asked, and Allison saw her nod. "I said, are you okay?"

"...yeah." Arkin managed to say, the movement making her groan slightly. "Permission to sit the next drop out, Sir?"

"Granted. We'll pick up the Grizzly and get you over to the med bay." Bulson turned to look at Allison. "That was one of the less-chaotic first drops I've watched over. Don't leave the mass adjustment until you're off the ship, that should be one of the first things you do." Bulson looked over his shoulder at Ringer. "Ringer, you're up next."

"Yes sir." The devil-grin was back on Ringer's face, and Allison did have to wonder if it would still be there after _his_ first drop.


	25. Rejection

**025. Rejection**

_Date: February 2183_

Allison kept to the side lines, nursing the beer she was holding. They were docked at Benning, everyone on the ship being given a few days' leave while _Hong Kong_ was repaired and restocked, and despite her best intentions Liza had managed to worm her way under Allison's resolve and get her to trot out to one of the military bars close to the docks. It was only a few hours after they'd docked, and most people hadn't moved from the station down to the planet itself. Thus, practically the whole of the crew of _Hong Kong_ descended on the bar, packing it to the rafters with relieved and relaxed chatter. People from other ships mingled with them, but for the most part it was all them.

Liza, a red flush across her face which Allison wasn't sure was because of alcohol or the high temperature in the bar, wobbled over to Allison, a huge grin on her face.

"C'mon, Shepard!" she yelled, making herself heard well above the raucous noise in the bar. "Ya can't stay holed up in the corner all night." Liza laughed to herself - drunk. She was definitely drunk.

"What're you betting me?" Allison said, taking another sip of her beer. A small smile quirked at the corner of her lips as she watched her friend's antics.

"You." Allison's smile disappeared as she looked at Liza. "Your dignity or whatever." Liza waved a hand. "I bet that the grand hero of Elysium is too _scared_ to be the centre of attention!"

Allison paused, considering. Liza swayed slightly in front of her, staring right at Allison.

"Allison Shepard's _scared_."

Allison smirked. "Scared of what? A small crowd?" Allison made a dismissive noise. She downed the rest of her drink, handed the empty bottle to Liza, and sauntered into the centre of the crowd. Liza hung back, a small grin on her face.

As Allison brushed past people, murmurs started up. A few were from the crew of _Hong Kong,_ pseudo-wonder at the fact that their Lieutenant Commander was actually daring to step into the spotlight; the rest were people initially sharing confused whispers, clarifications, before realising that yes, it _was_ Shepard walking out in front of them.

Allison moved past a few people, exchanging simple words with them before moving on. Some approached for an attempt at more in-depth discussion and she humoured them before heading over to the bar and ordering up another drink.

"What's the occasion?" a man asked behind her as the bartender brought Allison's drink over.

"Shore leave," Allison said, raising the neck of the bottle to her lips. She took a short sip as she studied the man - broad, dark hair, medium skin, but with some of the most intense blue eyes she'd ever seen. He almost reminded her of an older Finn, but she chased those thoughts out as soon as they appeared.

"Which ship?"

"_Hong Kong._"

"Huh." He paused, thinking. "Frigate, right?"

"Yeah." Allison took another sip of her drink, fighting off a frown. It wasn't unusual for someone to be curious about the Alliance Military - hell, she'd grown up on starships and space stations and was still amazed by what was out there in the galaxy - and there shouldn't have been anything about this guy that caused a sense of unease, but it did.

He grinned and rested against the bar, ordering himself a drink. A few minutes later the bartender slid a small tumbler with ice and amber liquid it in towards him. He lifted up his glass.

"To the Alliance."

Allison made a similar movement, keeping a polite smile on her face. She kept her eyes on the man as he took a sip of his drink before scooting his stool a little closer to hers.

"So what's a pretty thing like you doing with the Alliance? Some kind of deferred education program?"

"Nope." Allison popped the 'p' and turned her gaze to behind the bar. Her eyes trailed over the various alcohol bottles.

"Damn. Had a bet going on there. So why are you in the Alliance?"

"Wanted to see the galaxy. Help people out. Do some good."

"Come on." The man scooted closer again. "You don't believe all of that, do you? That's just the stuff on the recruitment posters."

"So because I agree with the recruitment posters, you don't believe me?" Allison moved to look out of the windows of the bar. Triply-reinforced, it still showed a mesmerising picture of the galaxy from Benning.

"Well, yeah. No one stays a romantic in the Alliance."

"No one?" Allison raised an eyebrow, looking back at him. "You must have a very narrow sample group." Allison took a gulp of her drink, grimacing as the taste hit a little hard.

"Oh, I've known quite a few Alliance types." The man leered, leaning in.

Allison scooted her stool out, the sound of the legs scraping across the wooden floor echoing around the bar. Eyes turned to them, but all Allison focused on was him.

"I like my personal space, and I like my privacy. If you value having a functioning left arm, you'll respect both."

The man scowled but with the attention of the whole bar on him, he muttered and returned to his drink. Allison snagged her beer bottle and walked back to the corner of the room she had been in before Liza had made the bet with her.

"You don't screw around." Allison wasn't sure if it was shock or a form of amazed surprise in Liza's voice, but either way she ignored it. Instead, she hunkered into the corner of the room, drinking her beer and keeping her eyes on the guy.

"Does he really think people like us are that desperate for sex that we'd hook up with people like him?" Allison said after a good number of minutes. Her beer bottle was half empty and to his credit the man had stayed slumped over the bar, nursing his own drink.

"Probably."

Allison heaved a sigh and downed the rest of her beer in one go. "Come on. I'm done here."


	26. Rain

**026. Rain**

_Date: September 21_79

Allison held her coat over her head as a makeshift umbrella as she dashed from one section of cover to the next. The rain was pelting down hard, and she cursed her past self. No prediction of rain but Allison hadn't liked the look of the grey clouds on the horizon. Still, she trusted the report and headed out in a light jacket and with no umbrella.

She moved onto the next section of cover, shoes squelching on the wet sidewalk. Her jeans were soaked up to mid-calf, and were damp up well past her knees. Visibility was minimal and she was stuck a good number of blocks away from the hotel. Aprion was quite a watery planet, she knew that, but she hadn't quite expected that to correlate with the sheer amount of rain she'd seen in the three days she'd been there. Almost enough to consider changing her shore leave to somewhere else.

She turned a corner and let out a groan of annoyance. The path ahead was more a stream than a sidewalk, and with the condition her clothing was in it would just make it worse. Absently, Allison wished she was on a ship or station or something that wasn't prone to these random, freak occurrences people called 'weather'.

Allison glanced up and down the street, seeing nobody around. Giving herself a mental shrug, she began to run through the streets. Splashing through puddles she probably soaked her jeans more, but was rewarded when the doors of the hotel came into view a lot sooner.

She stood in the entranceway, dripping water onto the matt and smoothing her hair back. She looked out of the doors back outside with a grimace; being close to five in the afternoon, it didn't look like the rain would be letting up any time soon, and the food offered in the hotel restaurant looked largely unappealing to her.

Allison sighed and headed for the elevator, hoping that her stop by the doors meant she was dripping less water everywhere than if she had rushed in. She scanned her pass card in and moved up to the fifteenth floor. She avoided glancing out the windows as she headed to her room, knowing the weather wouldn't have changed in the short elevator ride.

Reaching room 1507, she scanned her pass card across the lock, opened the door, and moved inside. She let the door close behind her and took quick, purposeful strides over to the window. With a quick motion the curtains were closed, and by the time she'd turned back and was halfway across the room she'd already dumped her jacket on the chair and kicked off her shoes. Her jeans followed shortly, left dangling over the back of the chair. With nothing much else to do, she turned on the vid-screen and tuned it to the local news.

[ - ]

Allison was thankful she had brought a change of jeans with her, although less so when the second pair also got drenched hurrying through the streets. She'd checked on the extranet for any takeaway places near the hotel and had thankfully found a burger place nearby. The dash back from the restaurant to the hotel was as frantic as the one she'd done earlier; more so as she was carrying a paper bag full of food with her.

The reception area of the hotel had a nice sheen of water on it, and signs warning of a slippery floor placed liberally around. She stepped through carefully, not as concerned as before about not dripping onto the floor.

Once up in her room, she flicked the lights on and tossed her dinner onto the table with a slightly wet splat.

[ - ]

The next morning offered no respite from the rain; overnight, winds had whipped it up into a full storm, young trees bending and swaying almost constantly. The streets were deserted, not even any skycars moving past. The local news hadn't issued any updated weather warnings for people to stay indoors, so it seemed like everyone had decided on their own to not venture out unless necessary.

And when locals decided to do something that wasn't reported on the news, that was a suspicious sign. Thankfully, breakfast had been a pre-paid buffet even if she had gotten a few odd looks from people when she ate more than was considered appropriate. That meant she didn't need to venture out into the rain-come-storm until near lunchtime, even if the thought did send her pacing across the small room.

Too small.

Allison wrenched her thoughts away, closing her eyes and breathing steadily. She counted to ten, flicked on the vid-screen again, and changed to a random channel. The volume increased by a fraction, then more, then more again until she was sure she'd hear banging on the wall, shouting through the door, staff coming up to request her to turn the volume down to a more acceptable level.

She let out a small growl of frustration and flicked to a music channel. She didn't care who was singing, what they were singing, she just needed something to drown out the _silence_.

She started pacing again, walking right up to the door of the room before turning around. She hit the window on the other side of the room and turned around again, continuing to pace like a caged animal.

_God damn it!_ At least on a ship she could do something to burn off energy - go to the gym or jogging track or see if she could wrangle a few people for a basketball game. Here, stuck in a hotel room while the rain continued to pelt down, her only option was to _stay_ and _sit still_.

The music changed to a song she recognised, and a half-smile appeared on her face. She slowed her pacing and mouthed along to the music, concentrating on that instead of her situation. When the song finished she closed her eyes and just focused on the next one, the rhythm filling the small room and allowing her some small respite from her situation.


	27. School

**027. School**

_Date: May 2164_

Allison sighed as she looked out of the classroom window to the view outside. The school was perched right on the edge of the small, rural community, with grassland and fields stretching out beyond. In the far distance there was a small wooded area - she hadn't gotten far enough in her explorations to have been able to explore the forest itself, but she would. In time.

"Allison."

She turned back to see the teacher, Mr. Roper, looking pointedly at her, a few of her classmates also looking over and grinning. _Allie's been daydreaming again_. She ignored them, looking at the board behind Mr. Roper. She easily traced what he'd written down, saw the space awaiting an answer from one of them.

"The digestive system runs from the mouth, down the oesophagus, into the stomach, passes into the small intestine, then the large intestine." Allison spoke from rote memory - this school was a couple of months past where her old one had gotten to.

Mr. Roper looked slightly surprised but turned and put up Allison's responses on the diagram of the human body. The screen shifted and the digestive system appeared, the answers shifting to label the correct parts of the body.

Allison turned back to look out of the window again, alternating between absently doodling on her data pad and noting down answers and responses where she thought needed or necessary.

Finally, after an eternity, the bell rings to signal the end of the school day. There's hurried chaos as everyone packs up and races out of the room, eager to be back home with their comforts, parents, music and gaming systems.

Allison stayed in her seat and pulled out her homework, including the one just assigned by Mr. Roper. A couple of quick taps on the data pad in front of her pulled up the textbook he'd got them to work from, and more taps on a second data pad brought up the homework he wanted them to complete.

Mr. Roper stayed in the room, clearing up his desk and turning off the vid-screen. The sound of data pads being collected and stacked, and the little blips from Allison's data pad as she inputted her responses were the only sounds in the room for a very long time.

A chair scratched across the floor as Allison stood up; she holstered her backpack as Mr. Roper looked up, clutching a data pad in one hand. She walked up to the front of the room, handing over the data pad as she drew close to Mr. Roper's desk.

"See ya tomorrow," she said with a small smile as he took the data pad from her. She moved across the classroom, hand on the control to open the door before Mr. Roper spoke.

"Allison, is everything okay at home?"

Allison turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. When she didn't speak, Mr. Roper continued on.

"You're always here early in the morning, last to leave the classroom. You spent hours every week in the school library, doing nothing but reading and working on homework." He picked up the data pad she'd handed over. "You completed this in the thirty minutes you spent sitting here. Tell me what's going on."

Allison's shoulders slumped. She slipped off her backpack, slinging it under a nearby desk and sat down on a nearby chair. She hunched over, her feet turning towards each other, her hands clasped in her lap, head bowed so she was staring at the floor. The minutes ticked by, Allison acutely aware of each second slipping by.

"There's no one at home. Mum's on a planetside assignment for the next year. Allows her to stay with me while still working, like when I was younger. Dad's on a ship and I'm lucky if I get to talk to him once every couple of weeks." Allison kept her gaze downwards, not wanting to look up into her teacher's face. "At school there's always someone around even if they're silent."

Allison moved quickly, standing up and picking up her bag in one swift movement. She was out the door and halfway down the corridor before Mr. Roper could move.

[ - ]

It was the weekend a few days later, Allison with little else to do with her time except go exploring or stay around the house. Seeing as her mother was at home for once, she'd chosen to stick around. The house they were renting was a nice one, one-storey suburban house in a quiet dead-end street. Someone had built up a basketball hoop on the garage entrance and Allison was there in front of it, trying to judge and time her throws exactly.

A skycar pulled up nearby and she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't recognise the vehicle as any belonging to anyone on the street she knew, but when the driver stepped out she saw.

Mr. Roper.

She looked back to her basketball game before he could catch her watching - something she'd learned on multiple ships, how to be nosy while still seeming disinterested in what was going on around her.

She tossed the basketball towards the hoop, watching as it bounced off the backboard and teetered on the rim for a perilous section before it fell through, brushing the net as it did so. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Mr. Roper knock on the door, her mother answering after a few seconds. Surprise flashed for a split-second before she commented that it was a surprise and stepped aside to let him in.

Allison grabbed the basketball before it bounced out of the drive and into the road. When she turned around, her mother had disappeared and the door was closed. She bit her lip a little, uncertain what they'd be talking about, commenting on, saying about. Did it really matter than she spent so much time at school?

She lined up another shot, flicking the basketball in a lazy arc. To her surprise, this one swooshed through the hoop cleanly and she smiled.

"Allison!"

The tone her mother used wasn't anxious, concerned, or angry; it was simply a call for her to come over. Allison left the basketball against the side of the garage and quickly moved forwards.

"Mr. Roper's been telling me you've been spending a lot of time at school. Is there anything you'd want to talk about?"

Allison shrugged, lowered her shoulders, and walked into the house. Mr. Roper was already seated in the living room and she took a seat, waiting for the discussion to start back up again.

"So, what's all this about?" Hannah said as she sat down next to Allison.


	28. Paint

**028. Paint**

_Date: June 21_70

Allison stood back, twisting the hair out of the crude bun she'd hastily tied it in. The sheets in front of her were a mess, covered in splashes of paint, a large canvas arbitrarily and similarly splattered. A multitude of colours covered it, completely abstract and offering a viewer no hope or option of deciphering what the painter had tried to accomplish.

For Allison, this was simply painting titled 'Anger #37'.

'Anger #1' had been done in shades of blue, from the palest she could make while still evident that it was a colour, to something that nudged right up against navy blue. The ones following on had been similarly splattered without care or concern, the number of different colours increasing as the painting number also increased.

She wiped a hand across the bridge of her nose, uncaring as to whether she was smearing yet more paint across her face. How her mother had thought that giving Allison the spare room as a painting studio would be a good idea still mystified her, but with sheets draped over every surface it ensured that the paint only went either on the canvas or on said sheets.

Allison breathed heavily and sunk down onto the floor, looking at her newest creation. The two main colours on it were yellow and black, splashes on the bottom left and bottom right respectively. Red dripped down from the centre of the top, almost looking like blood, and right in the centre was a swirl of rich blue and white. The background was a light blue wash, almost indistinguishable from the white.

She leaned forwards, hiding her face behind her hands. Her hair flopped forwards and she brushed it back harshly, likely smearing more paint across her forehead and hair. She sat for a few minutes, just staring at her latest painting, before getting up and moving the canvas across to another wall. It'd stay there overnight while it dried before being packed into the attic, an attic that was quickly and scarily running out of space.

She rummaged through the small pile of still-blank canvases and settled on one that was twelve by sixteen. She tossed the paint she'd been using into its holder and instead grabbed some charcoal. The piece rolled around in her hands, staining it black as she thought. After a few minutes she stepped forwards, drawing broad strokes onto the canvas.

Like the paintings, she had no finished design in mind, sketching for the sake of sketching. As she continued, the strokes merged into something vaguely wave-like, and she continued on in that vein.

A short while later she stood back and scrutinised her work. Lines and squiggles. She frowned and muttered a couple of light curses before yanking the canvas away and tossing it to the right. She shoved the charcoal she'd been using back in the case and looked down at her hand. With another light curse she started scrubbing it on her overalls.

She turned and walked out of the room, heading down the hall to the bathroom. She turned on the tap with her clean - relatively speaking - hand and stuck her charcoal-covered on into the hot stream of water. She glanced up into the mirror as the charcoal swirled away, and grimaced at her reflection.

Yup, she definitely had streaks of paint across her face and in her hair - a black smudge across her left cheek and red and yellow mingling across her forehead and extending into her hair like some bizarre multi-coloured streaks. She sighed, turned the tap off, and decided that having a quick shower would be more productive as a method of getting clean.

[ - ]

Hannah, as it had turned out, had been more than a little prescient in her actions. Allowing Allison to vent and work out some of her frustrations on painting, the rest being sports and time spent down the local firing range, had left an impressive amount of art in the attic. Allison hadn't thought much about them, expecting them to stay there until they moved and then got recycled into their component parts.

So it had been a surprise when Hannah had managed to get someone to come in, analyse, and mark Allison's work, giving her credit for art projects. He'd lingered over some of the work Allison had done, seeing it going from the abstract working out frustration to becoming more cohesive and allowing the viewer to definitely say that, yes, they _did_ see a lone tree behind a lake, fields of grass stretching out to the left and right, or a tiny girl looking up at the sky from a maze of skyscrapers.

He'd marked off her art course requirements for her high school graduation, knocking another of her requirements off. At the rate she and her mother was progressing on that, she'd easily be able to graduate early.

Hannah had left the spare room draped in sheets and with Allison's art equipment still scattered around after that, and Allison had ventured back in a few times over the summer to draw or paint some more. Without the frantic, anger-derived energy she'd had a few months prior her output had dwindled significantly, although Allison was sure her mother was relieved that she didn't have to try and find so much space in the attic again.

Allison had chosen to spend more time on the art she worked on, rather than hastily finishing another one as if she was working on an assembly line. She'd go up to the spare room, spend an hour or two working on her latest project, and walk away to do something else. A painting that would have taken her a few days early on instead stretched out to a couple of weeks, little additions every day giving a hint as to the final, expected form. A dab of colour in one place, slightly more definition in another.

Allison barely finish the picture before Hannah stated that they were moving to Siyurn.


	29. Exhaustion

**029. Exhaustion**

_Date: January 2182_

Allison scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to chase away the exhaustion that had been hounding her for hours. She'd hunkered down in a small corner of the mess, data pads piled high and everywhere, giving her both a physical and a mental barrier against anyone else who came into the mess and attempted discussion.

Not that she'd been ignoring anyone who had intended to talk to her, but once they saw the pile of data pads they all found something else to be getting on with, or directed their questions towards someone else. Only Captain Tosell had ventured beyond the barriers, and even then to just ask how her investigation was going.

Six weeks.

Six weeks since the disaster on Ganus and no one was any wiser as to what had happened. As far as anyone knew, everyone bar her had vanished in a split-second with no sign of where they'd gone or why. Because of that, everyone had relegated the events to one of the mysteries of the universe and had gotten on with their work; Allison, instead, had spent every spare minute she had trying to track down leads, information, evidence, anything to help her understand what had gone on.

There had been no recorded departures from Ganus between the Alliance shuttles dropping them off and dispersing, then returning some time later. That didn't mean there weren't any other departures, just that if there had been they were good at covering their tracks.

There had been no sign of anyone matching the descriptions of the missing Alliance personnel anywhere in the galaxy. Again, didn't mean they hadn't been seen, just there was the chance people had seen them but didn't want to help humans or the Alliance. Even on an individual level there were more than enough people who'd had run-ins or bad experiences with either or both and was disinclined to offer any kind of assistance.

Allison grabbed a data pad at random and began to skim through it. She'd read through all of the time and time again, and thankfully no one had offered their opinion that she should relax, take it easy, it's all in the past and nothing she could do would change or affect anything.

Her still-shiny N7 qualification probably had something to say about it, as well as some of the rumours floating around below-deck amongst the newest recruits that Staff Lieutenant Allison Shepard could kill them with her mind, if she was so inclined, so do not pester her for small and/or insignificant details.

On a normal day, normal week, normal month without a failed op on her mind, she would have spoken to correct those thoughts and assumptions. The fact that she could kill someone with her mind was an exaggeration - it took her mind and a few bullets for her to kill someone, but her mind certainly helped.

Allison looked up as someone placed a mug in front of her, the _clunk_ it made drawing her attention. Captain Tosell sat opposite her, a second mug in her own hands. As Allison watched for a few seconds, Tosell lifted her mug up and took a quick sip.

"Any progress?"

"No, ma'am." Allison pulled her mug towards her, the sludge the Alliance called 'coffee' swirling around in it. She picked it up and took a sip, mentally sighing in relief. This would chase away some of the exhaustion for a bit longer. "I'm still drawing blanks."

Tosell nodded, as if Allison had commented idly about the weather, and took another sip of her coffee. Allison paused, hesitant, before sighing and taking another sip of her own coffee. She placed the data pad she had been reading back onto the pile, and picked up another one.

This one showed transport and transit links between Ganus and other planets in other systems, as well as marking out what routes passed by - although not necessarily stopped at - Ganus. She rubbed a hand across her eyes, zooming out on the map so that it showed the nearby systems as opposed to focusing solely on Ganus'.

Ganus was on the edge of the Traverse, yes; that was part of the reason _Warsaw_ had been nearby. There were a million options for why they had disappeared and a hundred times more places the people could have vanished to - and again, hope on finding them relied on people seeing them and wanting to help the Alliance.

Allison zoomed out on the screen again, seeing the mass relay links. The only ones Ganus had were with the Maroon Sea and Kepler Verge, although from those it was only a few short relay jumps to the Terminus Systems.

Glancing up, Allison saw Tosell engrossed in her own mug of coffee, paying no attention to Allison or the work she was covering herself in. Tosell occasionally glanced around as people moved into the mess, the mind of a trained Alliance soldier checking all new variables and cataloguing them in terms of risk.

Allison pushed the relay data pad away, resisting the urge to sigh and run her hands through her hair. That was appropriate for a stressed green studying for their first real exam, but not for an officer almost ten years in the Marines. Instead, she grabbed her coffee and settled back in her chair, eyes half-lidded as she sipped her drink.

Despite her calm appearance, she was still running over any and every aspect she could. She was back on Ganus, retracing all the steps she took, trying to see if she could find anything out of place that she hadn't recognised initially, something that would clue her in...

Tosell sighed in irritation, slamming her mug down onto the table. Despite herself, Allison started and immediately snapped her attention to her CO.

"Off the record, Lieutenant? Stop investigating. Stop trying to find an answer. Stop wearing yourself thin looking for a solution that in all probabilities doesn't exist." Tosell stood up, taking her empty mug over to the sink. Once she placed her mug down, she paused, turned around, and focused a severe look at Allison. "And for god's sake. get some sleep."


	30. Hero

**030. Hero**

_Date: March, 2170_

Allison sat in a small corner of the book store, flicking through the pages of a comic she'd picked up. After buying it, she'd walked back across the store into one of the sofas dotted around, loaded up her purchase on her omni-tool, put her headphones on and started streaming music, and began to read through it. It had been a pattern she'd done many a time over the past few weeks, and all who worked in the store knew her by sight by now, even if they didn't know her name.

She didn't really classify herself as a geek - nothing wrong with being one, she just didn't think she fitted into a lot of the criteria. About the only think she could say was that she was a gamer geek, and even then she'd be sure there'd be arguments about whether she 'fitted' into the criteria.

The doors to the store opened and Allison glanced up, studying the person who walked in. Teen boy, maybe a year or two older than her, glanced over to her corner but moved on without further comment. He dived into the crime and mystery section and Allison returned to her comic book.

_What do you mean, it was all a set-up?_ A woman, red hair, black mask across her eyes, black bodysuit decorated with white trails.

A man, laughing, bald and formal suit on. _Do you think society would have accepted you as you are? No. You would have been hunted and hanged as monsters. I gave you clarity, purpose, trust._

The teen breezed past Allison and she glanced up again. He had his back to her and she looked over him, studying. He had a couple of purchase stubs in his left hand, his right scanning through the information in front of him, focused intently on whatever he was reading.

_Society respects us!_ The woman again.

_Only because I made them do so. Your entire reason is based on the fact that I manipulated people's perceptions of you._ The man laughs again. _Society would have never accepted you as you were._

_You can't know that!_

_Can't I? I didn't know the minds of people when I started manipulating them, turning them away from their fear and hostility to people like us?_

_You-_

_We are exactly alike, you and I. We're both...different._ A gleam on the man's face, a black panel following...

"Come here often?"

Allison looked up to see the boy who'd walked in earlier, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. She pulled off her headphones and gave him a curious look.

"Why'd you ask?"

The boy seemed to take that as an invitation and settled down beside Allison. Close up, she could see more of his features - white-blond hair, pale grey eyes, tan complexion and a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"I've seen you around. Always in this spot." The guy flashed a grin over at Allison, one she pointedly ignored. "I'm curious."

"I like privacy," Allison said, seconds before she slipped her headphones back on and returned to her comic book. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the guy shrug and move off.

[ - ]

Allison shut the door to the prefab, quickly kicking off her shoes and taking off her coat. The prefab was empty, her mother having to head into the local military centre to do some work.

Allison moved into the living room, flicking through the vids she had access to. She was pretty sure she'd gone through the entire available collection of superhero movies and those related to, but every scan through seemed to show her something new or different.

She paused over one title, considering. She'd watched it a few weeks before, but it had struck a truth with her. Her hand hovered over it for a few seconds before she decided to access it, turning her back on the screen as she moved from the living room to the kitchen. The first few notes of the opening title sounded as she grabbed one of the takeout leaflets, and she absently moved an arm to pause the vid as she dialled in the number.

[ - ]

The next issue of the comic was almost all action, a huge fight between the man who had been manipulating the heroes, and the heroes themselves. The heroes were on the back foot, the man knowing and anticipating any and every move they'd make against him. Allison was halfway through the issue with a resolution still yet to appear.

The man mocked, laughed, ridiculed them. The heroes tried attacking individually, in pairs, in small groups, but nothing worked. He deflected their attacks like they were nothing and seemed to have a penchant for monologuing. Allison let out a sigh as she flicked to the next section, scanning down yet another wordless page of attempted attacks and continuing despair from the heroes.

Allison allowed her arm to flop down as she finished reading the comic, scanning across the bookshelves. She'd read as much of the backlog of the comic as she could afford, finding the newest issue a curiosity, then reading a few issues back and finding herself quickly engrossed in the story. Now, however, it seemed...a disappointment. A battle drawn out to try and get more money? Or was there a more subtle reason, foreshadowed in earlier issues to be revealed later on?

Allison shook her head, picking herself up from the sofa. She waved a goodbye to the cashier still working in the store before she walked out into the brisk weather outside. It was a decent trek back to the prefab, one Allison normally cut short by grabbing a spot on a skycar, but for today...today she felt like walking.

As she did so, she called up some of the back issues of the comic she had been reading, skimming through to see if she could find some references that she might have missed earlier on. She'd found none by the time she reached the prefab and allowed a small sigh. Well, she'd still continue reading on - she seemed to have gained a small fascination with superheroes, at the very least.


	31. Still

**031. Still**

_Date: April, 2173_

Allison kept her breathing slow, steady, and even as she looked down the sight of her sniper rifle. She questioned, again, the logic in her being at the scope of the weapon when she was sure others on the ground team had more knowledge and experience with the weapon than she did. Yet, when the order was given she snapped to, said "Yes, Sir" and settled herself in for a long waiting game.

_Trafalgar_ had picked up a not-quite-right signal from a mining moon, and a further sweep, as well as liaisons with intel stated that the place should have been evacuated six months ago, the thorium mines standing depleted for many more months. No one should have been on the moon at all, yet snippets of conversation were captured, as was notes from comm buoys logging a small but still significant number of unregistered vessels operating nearby.

Richbow had sent out search teams who confirmed the initial suspicions. That had been followed by a briefing session, Richbow seemingly specifically seeking out Allison to include her on the mission. The bunkers and prefabs used by the miners and their families were registering new occupation, identity unknown. Caution and stealth highly recommended.

Allison grumbled to herself as her left foot began to protest at being forced to stay still. She lifted it up slightly, stretching it out for a few seconds, before placing it back in the same spot. She breathed deeply, calmly, keeping her attention down the sight.

The mining camp had been in the middle of a lush jungle, which for the crew of _Trafalgar_ was a boon. They'd set up multiple sniper nests around the perimeter, each with one person active. Reserves were nearby, switchovers occurring at frequent, predetermined intervals. Allison had been on second switch, making her impatience even worse.

She was not the type of person to easily stay still, and Richbow knew it. Hell, that was probably why he'd sent her down - try and beat out some of the more unsavoury aspects of her battle tactics. Rushing in and gunning down enemy troops worked so long as you knew they were the only ones around; if you weren't sure, that tactic was a sure-fire way to get yourself badly injured at best.

Allison could be patient, she could lay still in a hastily-crafted bunker, could watch down a scope for an enemy that may or may not choose to appear during her scheduled rotation; she just didn't _like_ doing so. She would have sent a small strike force down further towards the camp, searching out via IFF to see how many potential enemy signatures there were. Scout around, find any way in or additional exits, then storm the place.

And her tactics were likely to end up with a high number of injuries and a destroyed mining camp. Well, the mines were depleted, right? What was the purpose of keeping the camp around?

_Urgh_. Allison shifted again, this time her right arm protesting, the one close to the trigger of the sniper rifle. Not directly on; that was an error, a slight movement or someone startling her meaning a bullet in the ground she was aiming at. But close by, close enough to get off a shot if necessary.

Allison calmed her thoughts, trying to concentrate back on the expanse in front of her. The jungle ventured close to the camp, although whoever had funded the excavation did have the foresight to fell a section to ensure a clear camp, as well as spend resources making sure it stayed that way. Any new growth was six months old at best, barely enough to distort the view she had, the view she expected anyone to have.

Her comm. device pinged in her ear and she turned a portion of her attention away to it. Someone reporting in for a shift change, reporting in from Allison's eleven. She still had a couple more hours to go, unfortunately; a major risk to switch to new eyes at the same time for every nest. Stay long enough, have someone recognise the patterns, and they could slip in or out while the newcomers were settling into their positions.

Allison wiped a hand across her eyes, trying to take away some of the stinging sunlight. A couple of hours ago the system's star had been near enough overhead, but now it was dipping down towards the horizon, slowly but steadily inching down towards sunset. It also put the star in direct opposition to Allison's nest, affecting her vision if she looked anywhere other than straight down the scope.

She shuffled and let out a sigh, refocusing her attention. Mission accomplished, Captain Richbow. Lesson learned. Private Second Class Allison Shepard does not do well with covert ops requiring long observation and hours hunkered down in a small space.

Hell, if she didn't know better she would have had a sneaking suspicion Richbow had set this all up just to prove the point to her. She wiped a hand across her eyes again, flicking back down to her observation spot. Still nothing, not even a slight breeze whispering through the grass to draw her attention and give her mind something to focus on.

Another crackle of the comm., another person confirming a change of position, new eyes swapping in to observe the situation. Yet more time spent scanning the area, still no signs of any kind of life anywhere.

Allison scooted back, double-checking the fittings, fixtures, and mods on her sniper rifle. It was more for want of something to do, something to keep her mind focused, than a fear that she'd gotten sub-standard equipment. It took her all of three minutes to check through everything and she settled back down into position, moving a lock of her hair away with a breath.

She activated her omni-tool on her wrist, the brightness dialled down to its lowest possible level, and glanced at it. Thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes until her shift change and she could do something that wasn't still around, being completely still.


	32. Dusk

**032. Dusk**

_Date: April, 2173_

Allison couldn't help herself. She paced around the small makeshift camp they'd set up a couple of klicks away from the mining camp, ignoring the looks and grins she was getting from some of the other military there. To be honest, she was expecting one to pull rank and order her to stop pacing, sit down, and stay still, but so far no one had.

It had been a couple of hours since her shift switch, and her replacement was on the overlook by the camp itself, resigned to a few torturous of doing nothing. At least in the camp Allison could do something even if it was pace around to burn off energy.

She almost skidded to a halt beside the window and looked out. The system's star had slipped beyond what she could see of the horizon, the last tendrils of light visible in a deep red-orange sky. Breathable atmosphere with a similar composition to Earth, the sky was just as similar. The more distant stars had begun to twinkle in the twilight dusk heading to night, painting constellations at odds with anyone who'd spent even a fraction of time watching them from Earth.

For Allison, it was just another sign that she was somewhere new, somewhere different. She was never that good with memorising the constellations, a bit of a pointless endeavour for her as the names and shapes came from centuries of people standing on Earth and looking up at them and she wasn't quite imaginative enough to start making new ones.

A brief smattering of laughter brought her attention back, and she broke her gaze out the window to look over her shoulder. Someone else had walked into the camp, another shift break, and had immediately made his way over to one of the people seated. She'd grinned widely when he'd sat down and the two of them almost instantly started trading quips and gentle barbs, more laugher echoing around.

Allison turned back to the main table, no one looking up from their actions to pay any attention to her - why would they? She grabbed a cup of coffee from the machine and walked back over to the window, sipping her drink as she stared out. The stars continued to flicker up above her, and Allison idly mused.

[ - ]

Dusk had settled into night when Allison was assigned back to watch, in a different position to before. She was at her two from her previous position, now looking down towards the back of the camp. As with her previous post, plants and grasses grew up in every place they could find a space, still as the dead and forcing Allison to stay sharp to keep her concentration focused.

Night vision enhancements had been passed around to everyone as the natural light faded to almost nothing, and Allison had her own pair secured firmly over her eyes. The image still gave everything a greenish, fuzzy haze but to her it was no more strange than the bluish haze her biotics gave everything.

As night fell, the sounds of local wildlife started up. Cricket-like sounds and bird-like calls echoed around, distracting from their target. Flickers and flutters nearby didn't help, some kind of winged creature dashing about in the growth, disturbing branches and bushes and drawing attention to them instead of their observation spot.

A rustle of movement in the cap drew Allison's attention back and she gripped her sniper rifle hard. Mutterings came through the comms., people back at base tracing the new signal on their systems.

A figure moved into Allison's view and she stared down her sight. Partially obscured by both the low light and the structures around, it was a good length of time before the person had moved enough to be able to discern their features. As they looked around, Allison picked up on the tell-tale four eyes of a batarian.

"Base here. Does anyone have a clear shot?"

Negative murmurs echoed over the comms., and Allison kept her gaze steady. After a few seconds' deliberation she spoke.

"I do."

"Fire at will."

The sniper shot cracked out in the still air, silencing the sounds of nature that had been around. Through her vision enhancements, Allison saw the bullet tear into the batarian's head, drilling it between all four eyes. He fell to the ground seconds later.

"Report in three, seven, twelve."

Three voices sounded, all confirming their status. A few minutes later, after base had confirmed their orders, three human figures walked down to the camp and began searching through the prefabs. Initially, each one was searched with a half-whispered "clear" over the comms.

Four prefabs later, gunfire sounded over the comms. and Allison tightened the grip on her sniper rifle again, eyes focused to take another shot. She scanned the area in front of the prefabs, mentally checking and double checking appearance and gait difference between humans and batarians. Muffled shouts followed, more gunfire, a slight growl...

"Three here. All clear." Allison could almost hear the sigh of relief in his voice. "Small pocket of batarians in here, five in total. Encountered some resistance but have been subdued."

"Acknowledged. One, four, ten, move in to help secure the area."

Three more people moved in, forming another group to scout out the remaining prefabs. No more batarians were found, the scout teams only finding various electronic equipment in all stages of building, but one scout noted that nothing there was fully complete - it was all parts and components. No one could accurately identify what they were intended to be, and Base ordered the scouts to clear out the tech and bring it back with them.

Base also called back the remaining snipers, including Allison, and she gratefully moved out of her nest. She picked up and compacted her sniper rifle, clipping it to the left of her back. She glanced back, checking the site for anything which could point back to anyone specifically; satisfied when there wasn't any evidence left behind, she began the trek back to base.


	33. Earth

**033. Earth**

_Date: November, 2177_

The almost mythical reverence some people had for Earth was a mystery to her. Sure, it was humanity's home world, their cradle of civilisation, where everything had all began, but Allison held Mars and Pluto in awe more. _There_ was where they'd gotten the first two major pieces of Prothean technology, _there_ was their gateway to the wider galaxy, _there_ was where they'd found mass effect technology and the knowledge that they had not been the only sentient species in the galaxy.

But _here_ was where she was currently undergoing her N1 training. Vila Militar was an urban-turned rural area, largely taken over by the Alliance Military as a training ground. The building itself was tiny, barely more than a speck on the grounds. Sleeping arrangements were bunks in quarters, cafeteria serving food at pre-arranged times, and a few hours in the evening for personal aspects and development.

Of course, you only got access to those facilities for the first couple of days before being tossed out into the terrain surrounding the villa. Just enough time for a body to acclimatise to freedom, space, and halfway decent food.

The fuzz that permeated her head was nothing excessive; she'd deliberately been holding back on her biotics, conserving energy for when she needed them as a necessity, so she was certain low blood sugar had nothing to do with that. She'd ensured she kept up a steady intake of water, a mixture of purification tablets and boiling the hell out of the water when she ran out of the former.

No, she was just pretty sure that her body was complaining at her for not getting enough food. For an average person the two thousand calorie rations she had been assigned per day would have been enough; for a soldier, on the low side but still manageable; for her it was bordering on dangerously low.

Naturally, 'dangerously low' was the exact feeling N-school wanted to implement in its recruits. Not every mission would end with a half-decent meal and a bunk at the end of the day, and those ranked N7 would have not only known it but experienced it multiple times over. Unfortunately for her, she had to keep reminding her body of that fact.

She was running a small team, three people plus her - none of the others considered for N-qualification, simply people who'd been available at the Villa when the training started. She knew there were a large number of other groups, all being headed by someone who was considered for N-qualification, but despite being in the area for a week she hadn't run into anyone.

Allison glanced over at her team; they were huddled down in sleeping bags, a low fire crackling close by. She herself was leaning against a tree, one leg extended, one bent, left arm resting on her bent leg. They'd already been on the move for ten hours, with a half-hour break midway through, and they'd set up camp in a secluded area for a slightly longer rest.

Allison kept her eyes scanning the perimeter of their camp, scoping out each sector with a practised eye, determining if there were any threats nearby and moving onto the next sector when she was certain it was clear. When she'd scanned around for the third time she closed her eyes, heaved a sigh, and settled into a nap.

[ - ]

They were up and moving barely two hours later, the campfire extinguished and no sign that they had been there nary a few hours before. They'd boiled and bottled up as much water as they could carry before they'd left, packs weighted more than before they'd stopped. Between the humidity and the four of them, they'd need to replenish their supplies when they stopped again for the night.

Allison's eyes burned, her eyelids heavy, but she stayed at the fore of the group, leading them through the terrain and past any potential dangers. One of her group was starting to lag behind, limiting the pace they could move at, reducing the distance they could cover each day.

A slight _snap_ drew Allison's attention and she motioned for the group to pause. Her eyes swept across, scanning and categorising. There, to her three, a flash of bright orange in the swirl of greens and browns. She drew her pistol, carefully motioning for her team to stay where they were, and stepped forwards. Another _snap_ sounded, still from the same position, and Allison held her pistol up, ready.

She took slow, cautious steps, kept her breathing similarly slow and cautious, eyes focused ahead but ears attuned to any sounds from elsewhere. She pushed gently through the growth, keeping her eyes pinned to the flash of orange that was now moving slowly, circling around.

Allison paused, eyes narrowing. She continued watching the orange flash move around, seeing it begin to draw perilously close to her team. She backed up, aiming her pistol into the air, finger off the trigger. Stepping back, she motioned to her team to back up a few steps; as they did so she moved to their prior position, placing herself at the head and moving her pistol down in front of her once again.

A few seconds passed, the orange flash still moving, and she began to step forwards. This time, unless there was a change in direction again, they would intersect roughly halfway between where her team was and where the orange flash was currently.

The view around her blurred blue slightly, turning the orange flash into a more mottled colour. She focused her corona onto her left hand, dropping it down to her side. Her right hand kept a steady grip on her pistol.

Three steps away, she burst forwards.

Her left hand balled into a fist, she hit on the orange flash. Her right hand swung her pistol around, clocking it against the person's head. Enough force to startle, but not enough to cause damage. She swung her left fist around again, hitting the person in the chest and sending him to the ground. A finger on her right hand curled close to the trigger, a last-second warning.


	34. Smile

**034. Smile**

_Date: November, 2177_

Allison dropped the pistol as the person she'd decked held up his hands in surrender. She didn't move to help him up, and he got to his feet on his own, a smile on his face as he brushed down the armour he had on. Despite wanting to, she didn't make any noise of annoyance - she and her team were in ACUs and traipsing around with bags, while those sent to test were allowed to be kitted out in full armour.

On balance, though, with humidity as it was it couldn't have been that comfortable in the full armour.

The man looked at Allison through his closed but transparent visor, and cracked another smile. She remained stoic, looking back to her team for a few seconds.

"Ten minute break."

A muffled sigh of relief echoed across the jungle. Seconds later, three packs hit the ground with soft _thumps_, quickly followed by the three in her team settling down. The man nodded briefly to Allison before moving off; she kept the orange flash on his arm in focus until she could no longer see it in the foliage.

Allison stayed standing, but dropped her own pack. She grabbed a water bottle and opened it, downing half of it in a few hurried gulps. The rest splashed against her face, over her hair, a vain attempt at drawing off the worst of the humidity for a short time longer.

She glanced over her shoulder, checking on her team. They had appeared pretty unruffled by the seemingly-sudden appearance by an 'enemy', but she supposed they'd passed by this routine so many times before they almost knew what to expect.

[ - ]

They made camp again a few hours later, much earlier than the day before. There was no point keeping up a schedule, no matter how much everyone's bodies craved it. A schedule was easy to keep and maintain, but was also something that an enemy could use against them. Keep stopping and sleeping at the same time, and someone could easily find them while they were oblivious.

Allison walked through the camp, double-checking things both visually and also with her hands. After their encounter with one of the Villa's 'guards' she'd stepped up security on their base, constructing some basic noise traps and hiding them under cover. They wouldn't do much other than emit a faint rattling, but with someone attuned enough to expect danger it should have been more than enough warning.

She boiled up and bottled more water, one of her team stepping in to help. She gave Allison a small smile as the two of them set to work, wordlessly communicating what they wanted and what needed to be done, and their water supply was replenished in two-thirds of the time it normally took.

[ - ]

Allison had a smile of her own when she walked back into the building, two weeks after her initial arrival at Vila Militar. Ten days in the 'wilderness'; ten days of making sure that not only did she survive but also her team; ten days of continued movement and training; ten days of sheer 'keep going'.

The next morning she was up at five in the morning, disturbed and annoyed grumbles from a couple of her bunk-mates. She was still on edge from the training, body keenly attuned to threats and not resting even when she was back in a proper bed.

She spent the two hours until breakfast reviewing data points and vids of her own actions and progress. She'd known about the vid-cams on the very first hour she'd set foot in the jungle, despite the attempts to hide them away. Even if she hadn't, she knew there was some way the instructors were checking and monitoring the candidates.

Her smile had turned into a scowl when she spotted some mistakes she'd made, errors that had occurred. Small ones in the wider scheme of things, but for the N programme...each and everyone one was costly, each and every one an error that could cost her an N1 ranking.

She knew that logically her being invited to take part in the initial N qualification was an honour to begin with, but the thought that she might not be granted N1 based on some simple mistakes was incredibly grating. N qualification was also a one-time chance - fail out at any stage and that was it. It didn't matter if you were just starting out or aiming for N6, not attaining the next rank was that.

[ - ]

The smile was back on her face, albeit very guarded, when she was notified that she had indeed attained her N1 qualification. Her mistakes had been noted and scrutinised, but were not enough to fail her. Instead, her file now noted down an internal N1 rank, and she was given the details of the next training course for her to attempt an N2 qualification. They didn't quite phrase it like that, but Allison read it as such.

N2 was off-world, a phrase still excessively used despite humanity occupying more than one planet. She was given few additional details, simply a note in her file and a comment that the next N2 training was scheduled for three months hence.

[ - ]

Both Hannah and Dominick had smiles on their faces when Allison went on leave a few days later, all three of them accidentally coordinating their leave at the same time. News had filtered down from the brass that Allison was now an N1, and congratulations and celebrations had echoed around.

Hannah was happier than Dominick, but Dominick still gave his own congratulations, then almost immediately asked when her N2 training was going to take place. He'd been answered with a half-shrug and an admittance that it was in a few months' time but beyond that she didn't know.

For the few days that followed, everything involving Alliance and military regulations were forgotten as the three of them traded stories about their newest tours, stating and speculating on the information they were privy to and the others had clearance for. For those few days, Allison kept a smile on her face as she acted like a normal twenty-three year old meeting up with her parents.


	35. Letters

A/N: To view this in its proper formatting, visit my AO3 account (name: katyastevens)

**035. Letters**

_To: Captain Hannah Shepard ('Mum', hannah. e. shepard-__kilmanjaro. mil_. sa)

_Sent: April 17, 2183 15:09 UT_

_Subject: Reassignment_

_Body of the mail follows:_

Hi Mum,

I'm holed up in Gagarin at the moment, waiting for my transport to arrive. Captain Tougas told me only a few hours ago that my tour on _Hong Kong_ was up and I was being transferred to a new ship. Not much complaint from me, apart from the surprise - I've been ship hopping a lot as a Marine anyway.

Tougas didn't give me any information on my new ship, so I have no idea what's going to happen. I don't even know the name of the ship - I just have to hope the people on the transport know who they're looking for. About all I know is that whatever this ship is, I've been named XO.

When I'm settled in, I'll drop another mail and let you know what's going on, assuming I'll have the time. From what Tougas has said it should be a fairly simple event and I'll be right back on Gagarin before I know it.

Love,

Allison.

_This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities._

[ - ]

_To: Engineer Dominick Shepard ('Dad', __dominick. shepard-newport. mil. sa_)

_Sent: April 17, 2183 15:21 UT_

_Subject: Sorry for my absence..._

_Body of the mail follows:_

Hey, Dad,

Sorry, my Captain's been getting me to work hard, and this is the most free time I've had in weeks. Or should I say ex-Captain? I've been pulled off _Hong Kong_ and reassigned to another ship - yeah, I know, right mid-tour as well.

One thing did pique my interest - of all the non-information my Captain gave me (seriously, she said nothing about the ship) she told me that I'm XO. Scary, huh? Your little girl's growing up and is the executive officer of a ship :)

Have you heard from Aunt Lila recently? I know she tends to drift around but it's been a couple of months since I've got a mail from her, and I'm a little worried. Hope everything's okay and she's just forgotten to remind people that she's alive and well.

Love,

Allison.

_This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities._

[ - ]

_To: Liza __Moracová ('Liza', __liza. s. moracova-hongkong. mil. sa_)

_Sent: April 17, 2183 15:40 UT_

_Subject: Checking in_

_Body of the mail follows:_

Hey, Liza

See, checking in already. Told you I wouldn't forget...although, sitting around Gagarin isn't exactly stimulating stuff. Been here a half hour and I'm already bored out of my mind. Sitting still has never been my strong point, but you know that anyway.

What else?

Oh, yeah, the food here sucks. Stopped by a stall that did soups and pastas, saying that it made excellent ones, and it _lied_. I swear, some of these places I stop by make ship food look gourmet - how do they manage to stay in business?

(Oh, I know - loads of people streaming in and out, thousands passing by each day. If you're hungry enough and looking for somewhere to eat, you're hardly going to get your omni-tool and check out the reviews on the extranet, are you? You'll just sit and hope for the best. At least I do. Is it a sign I've travelled around too much when I've had more bad than good experiences with food at various ports and stations?)

Anyway, I'll send another mail when I've got things more organised here. Shouldn't be too long, and I'll be back at Gagarin waiting for you to show up. Got three weeks until your end of tour, and I'll make sure I'm waiting to see you around then. I promise, drinks will be on me (and no snark-back about they'd better 'cause it takes me twice as much to get a drunk as you, and you don't want to pay a huge tab).

Try not to get too bored without me :P

See ya,

Allison.

_This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities._

[ - ]

_To: Riley Delapaz ('Riley', __riley. x. delapaz-ward7. terranova. civ. pub_)

_Sent: April 17, 2183 15:57 UT_

_Subject: Re: Hey, Cousin_

_Body of the mail follows:_

Hi Riley,

Damn, are you serious? You're leaving your job at Terra Nova? Why?

I thought you loved it there, being able to keep a part of humanity safe. You needled me so much for signing up for the Alliance the day I turned eighteen, and yet you turned around and joined the police not even six months later. What's changed?

What's up with me? Oh, nothing major. Ship reassignment, waiting on Gagarin as I type this. Can't say more, you don't have the clearance and I don't want brass down on my head about potential leaks (even though they're monitoring everyone's mail to make sure said leaks _don't_ occur.). Just let me say that I was a few weeks off finishing a tour, and I get called up and informed I'm switching ships. Yes, Sir, fine with me, Sir, no arguments here, Sir.

Enough about me - how's your boyfriend doing? Stephen, right? ...That is right and you two are still together. I'm not horrendously out of the loop, am I? You'd probably get a huge laugh out of that if I am out of the loop - I can see you now, stop it.

Anyway, you and Stephen. He not annoyed you've left your job and are heading for areas unknown (or is he coming with you)? Between our two schedules, we don't exactly get much time to talk, do we?

Hopefully your next place of employment (you do have one, right? You're not quitting your job to laze about the house, are you?) will be a bit more accommodating for us to stay in contact. I've kinda been missing talking to my cousin (and yes, I am prepared to get an email back with you laughing at me admitting that).

Talk soon,

Allison.

_This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities._


	36. Family

**036. Family**

_Date: December 2170_

Amaterasu was a tiny little colony on end of the shipping lane running from Illium. In the Traverse it would normally have been one of a number of good targets for slavers and raiders, but being within a days' travel of an Alliance base meant it was pretty well protected.

Allison shielded her eyes as she stepped off the transport, a baseball cap on her head, newly-cropped hair feeling too short, a small backpack hurriedly thrown onto one shoulder.

A few other people had gotten off the same transport as she had, moving forwards to either greet people they were meeting up with or hurrying forwards to more public transport or picking up private transport.

Allison slung her back to the ground and perched herself somewhat uncomfortably on the lip of the sidewalk, keeping her eyes focused down. She activated her omni-tool, checking the time; well, she was on time, and Riley was late.

She flicked across her omni-tool, bringing up a story she had been reading. Engrossed in it, she didn't notice a figure approaching her and only when the cap on her head whisked away did she look up.

"Hey, Allison." Riley grinned as he settled Allison's cap onto his own head, tweaking it a little. "S'up? You had your hair cut?"

Allison turned off her omni-tool and stood up, scowling slightly. "You're late."

Riley kept grinning. "Come on, it was only ten minutes. Not like I left you here for hours."

Allison moved forwards, grabbing her cap back and settling it onto her head once again in a single, fluid movement. She adjusted it as Riley bent down to pick up her backpack. He slung it over one shoulder and began to move off, Allison following.

"I'll warn you now, Mom's gonna be pissed off at you."

"Uh-oh." Allison paused, looking over at Riley. "What's happened?"

"Well..." Riley paused as well, fidgeting slightly with the bag. "The news that you're a biotic _may_ have reached her, and she _may_ have also heard about you slugging that guy, and she _may_ be under the assumption you're unstable..."

Allison groaned in annoyance. She held out her hand to Riley. "Give me my bag back. I'm heading home."

"Home?"

"To Siyurn."

"Not gonna happen."

Allison glowered. A second later, she dashed forwards, hand reaching out for her bag. Riley stepped back, hoisting the bag well above his head and looking down at Allison. She tried to reach up for it, her fingers only just grazing the bottom of the bag.

"Riley!"

He chuckled slightly. "C'mon, Allison, it's family time. You should be happy you're not spending another vacation home alone."

"When I'm treated like _this_-" she jumped up, making another grab for the bag. Riley moved away so her hand snatched at mid-air. "I'm much prefer to be on my own." Allison levelled Riley with a fierce glare. "Do you _want_ me to show you what I did to Shad? 'Cause I'll be more than willing to give you a demonstration."

Riley sighed and dropped the bag; Allison managed to snatch one of the straps before it hit the ground. She slid it back onto her back, still fixing Riley with a glare.

"Look, whatever the hell happened? I don't care." Riley gave a shrug. "As far I'm concerned Shad had that punch coming. Mom doesn't see it that way, but she still invited you over to spend time with us, so she doesn't think you're a complete monster."

"Well, that's a relief." Allison rolled her eyes.

"Come on. I don't want to add 'being late' to the reasons Mom'll be annoyed at you." Riley moved off again, the sun glinting off his sandy blond hair.

Allison jogged forwards to catch up, her bag jangling slightly as she did so. "Yeah, because that's all so my fault." Allison reached up and ruffled Riley's hair, ignoring his sound of protest.

"You know, if you weren't my little cousin I don't know how I'd put up with you."

Allison snorted. "'Little'? I'm only six months younger than you."

Riley gave her a playful shove, sending her stumbling a couple of steps. Allison recovered quickly, responding with a small shove of her own. Riley laughed, shoving her once again before starting to jog; Allison followed, moving slightly faster to keep up with him. By the time they'd reached the skycar port they were both laughing, slightly red-faced and breathing heavily, and still shoving each other.

"Stop," Riley said, holding a hand out. He bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to get his breathing under control between his laughter. It took a few minutes (and a second attempt after he'd looked up at Allison and started laughing again) for him to stop laughing enough to unlock the skycar and climb in. Allison tossed her bag into the back seat and climbed into the passenger side.

"So, is Aunt Rachel really that pissed off?" Allison said as the skycar lifted off the ground and began to trace the invisible path to the main roads.

Riley smirked. "Nah, I was just kidding. Well, mostly. She can't believe you punched someone and got expelled for it, and she's nervous about your, well..."

"Mental stability?"

"Yeah."

"Riley, the L2s were stopped almost two years ago. This thing-" she tapped the back of her neck where her implant rested. "L3, next generation up. They've had hundreds of people with these implants and no side effects."

"Yet."

Allison groaned, flumping back into her seat and folding her arms across her chest. "All right, fine, no side effects _yet_. But after all the stuff with the L2 implants, do you really think they'd be careless enough to let it continue with a new generation of implants?"

"Depends on who we're talking about." The skycar banked left slightly, moving into a more rural area, houses parked on large expanses of land.

"Everyone. You're not gonna make something that has the same effect as what came before it, right? You're going to work on it, make it not blow up."

"Or not blow up so spectacularly."

"Are you serious, or just being annoying?"

Riley flashed her a smile as the skycar began to drift down. "Bit of both."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Urgh, you are _the_ worst cousin ever."

Riley's grin grew wider; the skycar touched down. "Come on, time to meet your home for the next two weeks."


	37. Vacation

**037. Vacation**

_Date: December 2170_

As soon as she stepped through the main doors of the house, Allison was smothered in a hug. When she was able to look at something other than a light beige jacket, she saw her Aunt Rachel - dark brown hair, medium brown eyes.

"Allison, how have you been?" Rachel looked at her with a wide smile, offering no trace of nerves that Riley had spoken about. "Come on, we've got the spare room all set up for you." Rachel turned away from the doorway, allowing Allison to step through. The house was a country house, built deliberately to echo the feeling of old-world, countryside England. The left side of the hallway had a curved wooden staircase and Allison glanced up as Rachel waved a hand in its direction.

Rachel disappeared into one of the far doors and Allison followed her into the kitchen. The ceiling had light wooden beams stretched across, the kitchen itself painted almost all white, large windows at the back and a stone floor. The tops of the cabinets almost matched the wooden beams in a scary way, and a small area was given over to a breakfast nook.

"How was your shuttle over?" Rachel moved around the counters, searching through some of the cabinets. After a few seconds she pulled out some mugs and tea bags. "No problems, I take it?"

"No." Allison slid her bag off her back, placing it carefully down by the side of the breakfast nook. She slid out one of the stools and sat on it, watching as Rachel continued to move around. "All went fine."

"Oh, that's good to hear." Rachel had moved to filling an electric kettle with water before placing it back on its base and flicking it on. "I was worried...well, it's not easy travelling around here."

"It was an Alliance Shuttle, Aunt Rachel." Allison smiled a little. "Drop-off service from Czarnobóg."

"Well..." Rachel paused as the kettle began to boil. "You can't be too careful." As the switch on the kettle flicked off, Rachel moved to pour the water into two cups, pausing before she poured some into a third. "Any tea?"

"Please."

Rachel filled a third cup, dropping tea bags into all three, and brought one cup over to Allison along with a spoon. Rachel called out to Riley that his tea was ready, and she settled into the seat next to Allison.

"How's your mum doing?" Rachel said, blowing on her tea before taking a sip.

"She's doing fine. Back at the Alliance full-time now with a groundside posting." Allison pushed her tea bag around in the mug, watching it swirl around.

"I bet she's glad to get back to work." Rachel nodded at Riley as he walked into the kitchen, indicating where his tea was. Riley grabbed the milk from the fridge as he passed by, pouring a generous amount in. He left the milk on the side and picked up his mug, walking over to them.

"How's school?" Riley asked, taking a sip of his team. Allison gave a shrug.

"It's school, you know?" Allison fished the tea bag out of her mug, squeezing off the excess water and resting the spoon beside her mug. "Not much different from the dozen other schools I've been at." A look passed between Riley and Rachel as Allison took a sip of her tea. She frowned as she put the mug back down on the counter. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Rachel put a hand on Allison's arm, smiling. It was a narrow, thin smile, a world away from the one she'd gotten when she walked into the house. "Finish up your tea and I'll show you where you're staying."

[ - ]

Rachel had seemed to colour-coordinate all the rooms of the house. The kitchen was white and light brown; the living area light blue; the bathrooms a light mint green; and Allison's bedroom red and medium brown. Tucked into a corner of the room was a modern take on an old style four-poster bed, golden curtains draped on the sides of the large window. A stand-alone wardrobe was on the other side of the room, a mirror embedded in one of the doors.

Rachel had left Allison to settle in, and Allison walked over to the wardrobe, opening it and looking inside. Perfectly empty but with no a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. She backtracked to where she'd put her backpack, opening it and moving the contents across to the wardrobe.

With a soft sigh, Allison left her bag beside the wardrobe and moved back over to the bed, sitting down on it. To her left, she could easily look out the window and see the expanse of land behind the house; a section approximately half a kilometre out was marked by a fence, the end of the land the property owned. A section on the right had a cluster of trees, enough to form the start of a forest but not so many that they crowded each other out. To the left, neat empty soil patches bordered by wooden planks and filled with small green plants, a greenhouse a short distance behind; and more towards the centre and closer to the house was a bricked area with a table seating eight and a barbeque grill.

A knock sounded on the door and Allison turned around to see Riley standing at the entranceway, a grin on his face.

"What do you think?" he said, leaning against the doorway. His cocky grin was back and he looked more relaxed than he had done earlier.

"I think you're showing off." Allison smirked, not moving from where she was sitting on the bed. "Seriously, this house? You'd never see this on a larger colony."

Riley moved forwards, the other side of the bed depressing slightly as he sat down opposite her. "That's pretty much the reason we moved here. Mom was getting sick of all the urban colonies around."

"And you?"

Riley looked away. "I miss the city. Miss it being busy with stuff to do." He looked back at Allison, plastering the grin back on his face. "Come on, get your shoes back on. I'll take you for a tour."


	38. Lunch

**038. Lunch**

_Date: December 2170_

Riley gave her a tour of the colony, something which barely took a couple of hours due to how small it was. Amaterasu was largely agricultural - almost all colonies started off that way, with it being easier and better for them to gain some kind of self-sufficiency rather than relying on imports - but the city centre, Isuzu, was already showing its aim to be a metropolis. The spaceport was small but functional, still shiny with new construction gleaming in the sun; a scattering of multi-storey buildings were around, some rented out for office space and others intended for 'city' workers or those who commuted off-world. There were no signs of any kind of deterioration, mechanised street sweepers already doing rounds to pick up any stray litter.

They'd picked up lunch from a local deli, Riley adding on a couple jars of marinated vegetables. He'd also slipped in a bag of cookies, giving a grin to Allison when she gave him a slightly confused look.

"Weather's nice," Riley said as he leaned back, laying down on the grass. They'd paused by a local park for their lunch, Nihon's light breaking out from the patchy clouds that had been around for the better part of the day. He'd abandoned his lunch halfway through while Allison had finished hers and remained still hungry. She tried to cover her jealous glances over at Riley's food.

"Here." Riley was half-sitting up, tossing the packet of cookies over to her. "Bought myself a pack yesterday."

Allison kept her eyes focused on Riley, not moving to open or even pick up the pack. Riley sighed to himself, picking the packet up and dangling it in front of her face.

"I did some research on biotics before you turned up here," he said, almost staring at her. "No way that small amount of lunch was good enough for you."

Allison scowled at Riley, but grabbed the bag of cookies anyway. She opened it and pulled out two, starting to eat one and keeping the second in her other hand.

"So," Riley began, flipping onto his stomach and looking up at Allison. "What's being a biotic like?"

"A pain in the fucking ass," Allison mumbled with a mouth full of cookie. "I need to constantly eat, people stare at me like I'm a turian, no one wants to even acknowledge I exist...well, not everyone."

Riley grinned. "There's a story there."

"Maybe later." Allison finished off the first cookie and moved onto the second one, nibbling this one a bit more cautiously. "What else do you know about biotics?"

"Not much." Riley folded his arms on the grass and rested his chin on them. "Mum's been keeping up on the news vids about them since Aunt Hannah told us you were one." Riley looked up at Allison, an apologetic look on his face. "That's kinda where her reservations are coming from."

Allison made a groan of annoyance as she finished up the second cookie, closing the pack. "News is always ninety percent worst-case scenarios, ten percent what-ifs."

"And it's affecting her niece." Riley moved to sit up, shoulder brushing against Allison's. "She's...I dunno. I dunno what she's going through, but she's seen all these news reports about biotics and knowing that you're one..."

"The L3s are fine."

"So you say." Riley shrugged when Allison turned to glare at him. "I'm just saying, it took a couple of years for the effects of the L2s to show up, right? And they'd jacked them into hundreds of kids by then. Are you saying there's not going to be _any_ side-effects with your own implant?"

Allison moved a hand to the back of her neck, fingers tracing over her amp port. "They've taken precautions, they've been careful..."

"That's not a guarantee."

Allison scowled. "Do you really think after all the horrific side effects that they'd let something like that happen a second time?"

"Maybe not so bad, but...c'mon, Allison. You've got chunks of metal shoved into you and wired up to your nervous system. Are you saying that's _not_ gonna screw something up somewhere?"

"I was already screwed up," she muttered, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Riley moved a hand up, placing it on her shoulder, and she sighed. "I've been screwed up my whole life, just didn't know it until almost a year ago."

"Screwed up?"

Allison didn't answer verbally, instead summoning a small corona. It flickered around her and Riley pulled back with a muffled yelp of surprise, looking at her wide-eyed. After a few seconds she let it die down and disappear; Riley didn't move from where he'd backed up to.

"That's-"

"Creepy as hell? Yeah, get in line."

"I was gonna say pretty cool." Riley scooted forwards, his wide-eyed gaze turning into a smile. "What can you actually do?"

"Not much yet." Allison gave a half-hearted shrug. "Only the basics - move stuff around." Allison looked over at Riley who was still grinning. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

"Sure." Allison reached back to grab another cookie from the pack, offering it to Riley, He waved her off and she began eating it herself instead. "No one's curious about biotics. _No one_. Not unless you're a biotic as well."

Riley huffed and moved away, his smile disappearing. He looked out instead across the park, Allison finishing off the third cookie and also looking out aimlessly. The colony was deathly quiet with not even a skycar or two moving around; the spaceport, just about visible from their distance, hadn't had any new inbound or outbound shuttles the whole time they'd been sat at the park.

Allison got to her feet, ignoring the slightly startled look on Riley's face. "I'm gonna have a walk around; I'll meet you back at the house."

She didn't wait for a response or acknowledgement before she turned and headed towards the entrance. She fiddled with her baseball cap for want of something to do, and once past the park entrance turned to a random direction and continued walking.


	39. Tree House

**039. Tree house**

_Date: December 2170_

Riley was already back at the house by the time Allison returned, a short nod in his direction to indicate that everything was within reasonable bounds of 'okay'. She headed up the stairs immediately after, dumping her hat and jacket onto a nearby chair and shutting the door behind her.

She perched on the edge of the bed, looking out again towards the back grounds of the house. Aunt Rachel was wandering around, inspecting the grill and adjusting the chairs by a few millimetres each way until she was happy that they were in the exact perfect position. A couple of minutes later Riley walked out, carrying on a small conversation with Aunt Rachel as he placed some plates and knives on the table before walking over to the raised beds, crouching down and looking over the plants there.

Allison moved over to the window and snapped the curtains shut, dimming the room slightly and also removing the chance that either her aunt or cousin would look up and see her. She settled back down on the bed and looked around the room, eyes falling on the baseball cap she'd tossed.

A faint blue glow filled the room, and Allison made a quick mnemonic. She had to repeat it three times before the cap began to float upwards, dropping back down to the chair a few seconds later. She muffled a growl of annoyance and repeated her mnemonic. This time it only took one attempt before the cap lifted off the chair; success was measured in the few centimetres it moved towards her before falling to the floor.

Again.

Time ticked by as Allison continued attempting to move the cap over by biotics alone, and she'd lost track of just how long it had taken when a knock on the door sounded.

"Yeah?" Allison tore her attention away again, cursing slightly when her broken concentration resulted in the cap flopping to the ground again.

The door creaked open and Riley looked through the opening, a grin back on his face. "Come on. Mum says you're banned from spending all your time shut in your room. Besides," his grin grew wider. "I've still got something to show you."

[ - ]

"You're kidding me. You have a tree house?"

Riley just gave her a grin before he started climbing up the ladder, Allison pacing around anxiously as he did so.

"You sure that's gonna hold our weight?"

"Come on, I doubt we weigh more than a half dozen kids. It'll be fine."

Allison wasn't convinced; she stopped pacing around but changed instead to folding her arms across her chest and watching as Riley continued climbing up the ladder. Around thirty seconds after his feet disappeared into the doorway, Riley leaned out, height indicating he was sitting down.

"Come _on_, Allison! This might be your only chance to play around in one of these things!"

Muttering to herself, Allison unfolded her arms as Riley disappeared into the tree house again. She moved up to the ladder and gave it a careful look - it was a rope ladder with planks, already looking very beaten and weather-worn. Allison gave a sigh and grabbed onto the rope, placing a foot on one of the first rungs. When she got up a few rungs the ladder began swaying a bit - she'd seen the same when Riley was climbing up, but being on the ladder while it was moving about was more than a little disorientating.

Still, she pulled herself up and through the doorway of the tree house, moving so that she was sitting down opposite Riley and the grin that she suspected should start getting its own living space.

The tree house itself was obviously handmade, but not in a bad way. There were little oddities, things not being quite perfect that hinted at it, but looking at it from a distance no one would have been able to tell it was human-made rather than machine-constructed.

"What do you think?"

Allison looked at him. "It's a tree house," she deadpanned, and Riley made an exaggerated eye roll.

"Nothing to say about what it looks like, or the views you get?" Riley got to his feet and moved to one of the small windows; with his height - not even being that tall - he had to crouch slightly to be able to move around without bumping his head on the ceiling.

Allison got to her feet and moved around, squeezing in beside Riley and looking out. A few nearby trees blocked a small section of the view, but beyond them laid out the rest of the back yard and towards the fields beyond.

"Impressive, no?"

Allison turned to look at Riley. "I guess it is. So why'd you have this thing built here? I didn't take you as someone who wanted something like this."

"Well...the last people who lived in the house left it here." Riley moved away from the window and sat back down again, propping his back up against one of the walls. "Dad wanted to pull it down, recycle the wood for something better. What use is a tree house for a family where the 'kid' is seventeen, right? I managed to persuade him to leave it up, took it as my little hideaway. Dad rolled his eyes at me the first time I ventured up here, but he's moved on about it."

"So what exactly do you do here?" Allison moved away from the window as well, choosing to sit beside Riley.

"Random stuff. Sometimes I read, sometimes I check the extranet on my omnitool to see what's going on." Riley leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Whoever built this knew what they were doing; it's in the perfect spot to sit and watch the sun go down."

"Really." Allison looked at Riley, not believing him. After a moment his eyes opened and he looked over at Allison.

"Really. I'll show you tonight, actually. It's quite a pretty sight."

"Riley! Are you up there?"

Riley sighed to himself, throwing Allison an apologetic smile. "Yeah, Mum, I'm up here. Allison too."

"Come on down! I still need your help with dinner!"

Riley got to his feet, quickly moved over to the ladder, and began climbing down the ladder; before he disappeared from view he looked over at Allison.

"Meet you back here at sunset."


	40. Gossip

**040. Gossip**

_Date: December 2170_

Allison waited a full five minutes before she climbed down the ladder, it still swaying under her movements but not so much as when she had climbed up. She ignored the last three rungs, dropping down to the ground with a soft thump instead. The half dozen or so trees she'd seen from both her window and the cut-out on the tree house had initially looked to be dotted around in a random pattern but now, looking at them from the ground, they'd been planted in a very specific manner, careful measurements placing them at set distances from each other.

She walked out of the wooded area and cast a glance over the plants Riley had looked over earlier. They were growing, she could tell that, but had no clue if they were growing _well_. A few had small buds on them - unusual for normal colder weather, but Amaterasu was a pretty temperate colony, with warm summer-like weather all year around.

After a few minutes of looking around, Allison headed back to the main house.

[ - ]

Allison sat on one of the counter tops in the kitchen, watching as Aunt Rachel and Riley swooped around, grabbing things out of multiple drawers and cupboards. Aunt Rachel busied herself with plates and glasses, while Riley moved over to begin chopping and preparing veg. After a while Aunt Rachel disappeared out of the room, leaving Allison to observe her cousin as he moved.

As Riley deftly moved around the kitchen, seeming to almost skate across to wherever a needed item was, Allison saw why Aunt Rachel had left him to it - he knew what he was doing. Before too long there was a pile of veg slid onto skewers, some small stacks of different types of burgers, a selection of chicken strips on skewers, sliced burger buns, a huge bowl of salad, sliced cheese, and various condiments. Only when he'd finished did he look over his shoulder and really acknowledge Allison.

"You gonna help me carry this stuff out? I'll get the grill started."

Allison slid down from the counter top and walked over, taking the items Riley handed her - the veg skewers and some of the chicken ones. Riley himself had grabbed the burgers and the rest of the chicken skewers and was halfway out the door before Allison could speak. She hurried after him, keeping the plates of food balanced.

"How'd you learn to cook?" she asked when she pulled up next to Riley.

"Here and there. Few cooking classes at school, few days when I'd be at home on my own for the evening and wanted to try making something new." Riley flashed a smile. "Extranet's pretty useful, but you do have to make sure you're not looking up any dextro recipes by accident."

Allison winced at that. "Yeah, that'd be...not good."

"Asari are the best for new stuff," Riley said as they reached the table, putting the plates he had been carrying down. "If you can find half the stuff they're asking for, anyway."

Allison put the plates she had been carrying down, and Riley turned to the grill. He lifted up the lid and checked things over, sliding the lid all the way back after a couple of minutes. He bent down and opened the doors underneath the main section of the grill, pulling out a couple of pairs of tongs and placing them on top of the grill.

The grill fired up a few minutes later, Riley moving around and adjusting settings and dials as Allison sat and waited at the table. She watched as he moved around intently, getting up and handing him some of the food when he called out "ready!"

"You learning to cook?" Riley asked as Allison handed over some of the food and Riley slapped it down onto the grill, getting a spluttering hiss as the cold food hit the hot ceramic plate.

"Not really." Allison stood nearby, watching Riley toss more stuff onto the grill. Fully one half of the grill was now covered in food, and Riley quickly switched between things, keeping one pair of tongs for the meats and the other for the veg.

"So," Riley said, a smirk appearing on his face as he checked on the burgers. "Aunt Hannah let slip that you might have someone special in your life now."

Allison felt herself go bright red. "It's...nothing! It's nothing!"

Riley's grin grew wider, and he laughed. "You _do_! Come on, tell me."

"Why are you so desperate to know?" Allison turned to glare at Riley, trying to get him to stop gossiping, shut up about boyfriends, and get his full attention back to cooking.

He just continued to grin at her.

"Come on, I'm gonna get it out of someone somehow. And I don't think you really want me prying it from your mother, do you?"

Allison gritted her teeth and sighed. "No..."

"Then save yourself the horror and terror and tell me." Riley checked on the burgers again, flipping a couple over as they started to cook on the underside. "Here, let me help you out. How'd you two meet?"

"School."

"Well, yeah, I'd pretty much gathered that." Riley flipped a couple more burgers. "How? Did you do the high school romance 'new girl at school, run into a hot guy, drop your books and he offers to help'?" Riley snickered. "Nah, you'd catch your own books before they hit the ground. Impress everyone with your biotic abilities."

Allison glanced away, but even out of the corner of her eye she could see Riley's grin fade.

"Sore subject?"

"Yeah. You know what public impressions of human biotics are."

An arm moved around her shoulders and Riley pulled her close. "You're still the same person you were a year ago, Alli. You just...now have the ability to manipulate gravity."

Allison snorted. "Which you think is cool."

"Hell yeah!" Seemingly finished checking over the burgers, he moved onto the chicken skewers. "Think of it this way. You're the first of a new class of humans. That should be _exciting_."

Allison sighed and looked away. "It's not exciting when everyone expects you to break."

Riley shook his head and nudged her slightly. "Come on, we're almost done with the food here. Grab the other stuff from the kitchen and bring it out, Dad should be home by now."


	41. Dinner

**041. Dinner**

_Date: December 2170_

Riley was correct - by the time Allison had made her way back into the kitchen Uncle Isaac was already there. He gave her a quick smile as he rooted around in the fridge for a beer, not speaking until he'd popped the can and taken a sip.

"Hey, Allison, how was the trip?"

She gave him a quick "good" and a short rundown of her trip as she looked around. The burger buns, salad bowl, and condiments were all still where Riley had left them; however, she had no idea on where any drinks would be. Allison asked Uncle Isaac and he pointed her towards a bottom cupboard on the far end of the kitchen. She struggled for a few seconds before Uncle Isaac appeared in her view.

"Here, I'll take those." Without a further word he grabbed the two bottles Allison had already picked out and carried them off; Allison grabbed two more and stood up. Uncle Isaac had already walked out of the kitchen with the salad bowl as well, and she shifted one of the bottles to under her arm and grabbed the plate of sliced burger buns. She deposited them on the table outside before heading back in for the cheese and condiments.

Uncle Isaac popped back inside for a couple of minutes, and when he walked back out he was shortly followed by Aunt Rachel.

The burger buns were slapped on the grill for a couple of minutes, drinks were poured, and everyone aside from Riley (who was still tending to the grill) sat down. The sky was cloudless, Nihon's sun blazing down and making it feel to Allison like the height of summer. They made small talk as Riley finished cooking the items, soon setting down a random assortment of food.

Allison made a move to grab an assortment of items and pile them onto her plate, but she fought down the instinct and instead waited, semi-patiently, as everyone else grabbed what they wanted. No point in her cleaning out the plates of food before anyone else had even had a glimpse of it.

Riley nudged her elbow and passed over the plate of burgers; in a quick whisper he said "take as many as you need". She looked at him and speared two with her fork before grabbing two buns and two slices of cheese.

She'd make do, and if it really came to it she could always go to Riley and have him help her make an evening snack. He didn't seem to mind that her appetite could easily outclass his.

Uncle Isaac had noticed how much - or little - food she had taken and frowned at her across the table. "That all you having? I thought biotics needed more."

Allison flushed and looked away; she heard quiet mutterings from Aunt Rachel and a few seconds later Riley's hand squeezed hers.

"I'm just saying, is all. Don't want her going home half-starved-"

"Isaac..."

"I'm serious!"

Allison winced and edged back a little. Riley's grip on her hand tightened a little and she turned to see him glaring at her.

"C'mon, be honest." Riley tugged at her hand. "You need more?"

"...Yeah." She said the word with a sigh, and the plate of burgers was in front of her again within seconds. She grabbed another burger and a small handful of the skewers and settled down to eat. She didn't say, but the amount of food Riley had done might have looked more than enough for four people with typical appetites, but she doubted it would feed even three with her level of appetite.

Allison hunched her shoulders and ate mechanically, dropping into conversation at irregular intervals to offer her opinion and feedback. Uncle Isaac talked about work at one of the offices downtown - technology services, boosting the signals from the extranet to cover the expansion of the colony. Aunt Rachel talked about one of her friends, expecting another baby ("her fifth, can you imagine?") and a colleague at work who was getting ready to retire ("the man couldn't wait until the day he hit a hundred"). Riley shrugged and offered small soundbites about school, although he did sneak a sly glance at Allison when Aunt Rachel asked him about his after-school job and how that was going. Riley deflected, stating that things were fine without explicitly saying what it was he did; when Allison pressed, he just said he'd tell her some other time.

Topic turned to Allison before too long, and she gave up as much information as she felt comfortable with. Her mother back at work, new school fitting in fine, discussion of a couple of friends (and she didn't fail to notice Riley paying rapt attention, trying to sort out who of the people Allison mentioned might have been her boyfriend). She deflected when Uncle Isaac tried to pry a little more information out about her.

The sun had begun to drift towards the horizon when they'd finished up the main part of their dinner and Riley had jumped up and pulled out a few things for dessert - some sorbets and ice cream he proudly commented that he made himself, and grilled up a few pineapple rings dusted in brown sugar.

Silence descended on the table as they ate dessert, and Allison's eyes began to drift closed. Had she really only arrived at Amaterasu that morning? It felt like a heck of a lot longer, _much_ longer.

She jolted awake as a hand landed on her left shoulder; she looked up to see Aunt Rachel bending down slightly, a small worry line on her forehead.

"I'm fine," Allison said, and Aunt Rachel removed her hand. "Just been a long day."

Aunt Rachel smiled slightly and nodded. "It has. Stay there, we'll clean up."

Allison wiped a hand across her eyes and watched as Aunt Rachel, Uncle Isaac, and Riley cleared the table; after a few minutes, Riley came back out and held his hand to Allison.

"Come on, you promised you'd watch the sunset."

With a smile, Allison took his hand.


	42. Presents

**042. Presents**

_Date: December, 2170_

Over the next few days Allison got to know Isuzu exceedingly well. Despite the size of the house Allison couldn't stay there too long for fear of feeling cooped up, and so it became a typical schedule that she'd head out after breakfast and not return until mid-afternoon, with enough time to help Riley or Aunt Rachel or Uncle Isaac with cooking if they requested it.

Allison had found a library on the third day, and on the fourth Riley had come with her and checked out a few books for her. That afternoon they'd sat on the grass at the local park, Allison laying on the ground and reading through one of the books she'd borrowed. By lunchtime the next day, she'd finished them all and Riley scheduled another visit to the library.

She spent some time sitting beside the spaceport and watched the various transports arrive and leave. A number of them were Alliance-branded, but a scattering were privately owned, either no distinctive markings or a personal logo on them. A few were transport shuttles, company logos displayed prominently and Allison made a mental checklist of the ones she'd seen. Some military people had disembarked, one of them glancing over at her - whether slight recognition of who she looked like or just curious about a lanky teen girl sitting around for hours she wasn't sure.

She'd stopped by some of the shops during her walks, browsing the store selections for gift ideas. She'd spotted something very quickly for Riley, but Aunt Rachel and Uncle Isaac were more tricky, necessitating a number of further trips. She'd asked Riley along once, trying to feel out ideas and suggestions from him - he'd been a lot more helpful than Allison had expected, guiding her towards a cosmetics company for Aunt Rachel and an electronics store for Uncle Isaac. Quick swipes of her credit chit docked the payment from her account, and she noted for the items to be delivered to the house, addressed to her.

Allison spent the last day before the twenty-fifth sitting and watching the spaceport again, sipping on some juice. Riley had initially agreed to come with her, but plans at his work had changed and he had to head in for a few hours instead. They'd split off a good number of roads back, Riley promising to meet back up when he'd finished with work.

Another Alliance shuttle landed, a small crowd of people standing around it. Most were in ACUs, bags slung over their shoulders, and Allison felt a small twinge of regret. Being a Navy brat, she'd gotten used to holidays and celebrations being a non-issue very quickly. No guarantee both parents would be around for birthdays or various holidays, and the majority of them had passed into the background. For those people who seemed to be shipping out, the possibilities that they had family who had intended to spend some of the holiday celebrations with them were high.

Before too long, the people were on the shuttle and the engines roared, VTOL ensuring a quick lift-off. Allison kept her eyes focused on the shuttle as it moved away, her attention trained on it until it disappeared into the sky. With a sigh, she finished off her juice and stuffed the empty carton into her bag.

Christmas Day itself was a rather subdued event, one which Allison hadn't been quite prepared for. No hurried, frantic efforts to try and get food cooked, no worries about everything needing to be perfect, just four people from the same family sitting around. Riley was happily sipping from a small glass of champagne, Allison being more careful with her Buck's Fizz. Breakfast had been a buffet-type selection, and no one commented in any way when Allison picked up a second breakfast.

She and Riley were curled up on the carpet, a short distance away, while Uncle Isaac rummaged through the small pile of presents. Six of them for four people, and Allison spent the waiting time trying to estimate who they were for. She knew three she'd bought herself, and estimated one each for herself and Riley, and one split between Uncle Isaac and Aunt Rachel.

Her guess was right when, a few minutes later, she and Riley had two gifts each and her aunt and uncle three between them. Slight music came from the speakers wired up in the living room, an eclectic mix of holiday songs from the past two and a half centuries, the sound of wrapping paper being torn off smothering the music in places.

The presents were well-received, Allison noted with a grateful sigh. A thanks from Uncle Isaac, a hug from Aunt Rachel, and a beaming smile from Riley. The gifts to her were received in a similar fashion - a thanks to Riley for the homemade cookies (with a note slipped in with the recipe and a comment not to be worried if they didn't last long with her appetite) and a hug back to Aunt Rachel for the earrings and necklace. Those were simply designed, an malachite pendant on a leather strap, and teardrop-shaped studs.

Allison idly played with the necklace for a bit before deciding to put it on, adjusting the strap to her liking. She grabbed the pendant and idly ran it over her fingers, feeling the smooth gemstone. No grooves or markings, whoever had had it cut knew precisely what they were doing. She flashed a smile at Uncle Isaac as their eyes met, Riley hopping up a few seconds later and grabbing Allison's hand, dragging her into the kitchen.

She allowed herself to disappear into the smells of cooking, honeyed ham and roast turkey curling around, stuffing and cranberry sauce quickly whipped up, veg peeled and boiled. Almost all the way through it Riley kept up a running commentary, Allison jumping in with comments and her point of view. Dinner was ready a short while later, chat and murmurs filling up the table and drowning out the soft music that was still playing.

"So," Riley said as he passed Allison some ham. "Planning on heading over here next year as well?"


	43. Home

**043. Home**

_Date: January 2171_

Allison looked out of the viewport as Amaterasu disappeared into the distance. She'd picked up the shuttle with more than enough time to spare, nibbling on the last cookie in her bag - despite Riley's ribbing, she had paced out the cookies, managing to save one for the trip home. She'd read through the recipe and made a note to get the ingredients together and try and make them, but she knew that five minutes into attempting to make them she'd likely need to call up Riley and get him, through his laughter, to walk her through the steps.

_You can't rely on someone else always cooking food for you, Alli._

She rested back against her seat - a civilian shuttle, mostly empty. Only four of the seats were occupied, including Allison's, and no one else really paid any attention to the teen travelling on her own. She'd travelled on enough ships and shuttles on her own to know how schedules worked.

Allison loaded up her omnitool, the first few notes of a classical song began to play through her headphones, and she let her eyes drift close.

[ - ]

Siyurn looked like a small, gleaming gem in the dark backdrop of space. Thinking logically and reasonably, most planets did. There was a small difference, something special about seeing Siyurn finally, knowing that in a couple of hours she'd be docked and off the shuttle and heading home.

_Home?_

Allison blinked. Home to her was where she was. In space. The roar of an engine underneath her, the sleek walls and bulkheads, the subtle change and pull of being slingshotted through a relay.

But now she was thinking of 'home' as a small human colony in Alliance space.

[ - ]

Landing at Siyurn was quite a difference coming from Amaterasu. The spaceport was larger and much busier, Siyurn being in the middle of a few shipping lanes as opposed to Amaterasu being the termination point for one.

Allison squinted against the bright sun - another thing unlike Amaterasu, Siyurn actually had seasons and varied temperature changes, meaning January was bordering on freezing. Allison had ensured she had some warm clothing either on or in her carry-bag, but a quick glance around showed a few people who seemed wholly unprepared. Siyurn wasn't the coldest human colony out there, but it was still a shock to those who weren't quite expecting it.

She hoisted her carry-bag onto her right shoulder, picking up her stored bag in her left hand. Allison moved through the crowds with a practised eye, speeding along the path that would lead her out the spaceport and onto the main streets. She'd left Finn a mail to let him know she was on her way home, but she couldn't see him - not that it overly mattered to her. She moved on, slipping through the entrance and glancing down the street.

Allison debated between walking back home and grabbing a skycar from the transport terminal. It wasn't an excessive distance to her house, but it was a decent one and her energy was flagging a little from the trip back.

She turned right to the transport hub, and a few minutes later was settled into a skycar with another passenger. The middle aged woman had barely even exchanged glances with Allison before inputting her destination.

Allison was dropped out by the front of the estate she lived in, and looked around at her surroundings briefly. Any holiday decorations that had been placed up had long since been taken down, leaving the area looking almost bare. The prefabs, by design, were now all alike with only the numberings letting anyone know the difference.

Allison moved to number thirty-five, unlocking it with a swipe of her omnitool, the door unlocking when it registered the correct code. She dumped both bags down and looked around. The place was still spotless, looking completely unlived in. Allison knew that her mother had been around for a few days over the holiday season, but more likely than not she'd spent her 'relaxation' time ensuring the place was immaculate.

Once an Alliance soldier, always an Alliance soldier.

Allison checked through the house and found a data pad with a hurried note on it - emergency at work and Hannah had to go and resolve it. Dinner in the fridge, just heat it up in the oven when she wanted it.

Well, what she wanted at that point in time was some more of the cookies Riley had made, but a thorough search of the cupboards and fridge showed nothing that could even remotely be repurposed - none of the base ingredients, and everything she found was running low. Allison muffled a sigh - food shopping tomorrow - and grabbed her dinner from the fridge. IT was nowhere near an hour anyone would consider for dinner, but biotics had some pretty screwed up assumptions of when it was supposed to be appropriate to eat.

[ - ]

The soft orange glow of an omnitool was the only light in the room; the star had set while Allison had been curled up in bed, and she had been very loathe to make any movements towards either getting up and closing the curtains and turning the light on, or testing out her limited biotic skills to see if she could manage it without moving from her spot.

She flicked down to the next section, letting out a soft, contented sigh. Yeah, Siyurn _was_ home, at least for now. It was where she headed to at the end of the day, where she was comfortable, where she knew where the food was and which bed was hers, and if she was lucky, she could look out of her bedroom window, out into the dark sky and count the stars there.

Allison closed down her omnitool mid-book, and rolled over slightly to look out of her window. It was still quite light outside, the stars obscured from view for a few hours more. Still, she could look up into a section of sky and know what was intended to be there, where she liked living and where she still wanted to go.

Maybe she considered home to be where she rested her head?


	44. Kiss

A/N: Fair warning: this is the first of a two-parter set of ficlets, and the next part will bump this fic up to an M rating.

**044. Kiss**

_Date: November 2177_

Allison knocked back another shot, eyes scanning across the room. The rest of the crew of the _SSV Seoul _had been given some liberty leave while at dock to be refuelled and food stocks replenished, and Allison had noted a few Alliance types milling around. Allison herself was waiting for the all-clear, for her assignment to filter through and her posting to be acknowledged, most likely quickened by the sight of a fresh, shiny N1 qualification on her file.

Allison tapped on the bar, another shot appearing in front of her almost instantaneously. She downed it, turning the glass upside down, and scanning through the crowds once again. She had a good twelve, fourteen hours before needing to report in, and her drunken haze was enough to let lose some of her reservations.

Hell, when was the last time she'd gotten laid? Well over a year ago, by her standards. Well before Elysium. It had taken months for her face to no longer be plastered everywhere, weeks for her actions to no longer be of note on news reports. News of her actions quickly faded to news about reconstruction, rebuilding, but she was always mentioned in something, somewhere, related to Elysium.

That had died down a little, but she was still recognisable. The scar along her jaw line paid to that; if someone wasn't _quite_ sure if she was _the_ Shepard from Elysium, their eyes drifted to her left jaw, saw the scar, and mind confirmed it.

A faint flicker of biotics appeared over Allison's hands; she clenched them, willing the feeling away. She was definitely past feeling tipsy, but she'd tested out her limits a long number of years ago, knowing how much she could drink on leave without risking a hangover the next morning.

The moment she started glowing blue, that was the sign to stop drinking.

She sighed slightly as her corona faded, and caught the bartender's eye. Another shot slid over and Allison picked it up, musing over the amber liquid for a few seconds before she downed it. Her hands prickled and her corona flared up once again; this time, she couldn't get it quite under control. With a sigh, she scooted her stool back, swiped over her credit chit, and grabbed her jacket.

"I don't believe we've met."

Allison hid an eye roll at those words; instead, she turned to face the person who'd said them, a small leer on his face and a distance expression in his eyes. He swayed slightly on his feet and Allison snorted a laugh.

"Sober up, soldier. You'll be on ship in a few hours."

The man instantly straightened up and, to his credit, _tried_ to look like he hadn't downed five gallons of alcohol. He'd still had his ACUs on, but the fact that Allison was in civvies had thrown him. As his eyes cleared, briefly, he seemed to fully recognise her.

"Hey, aren't you-"

Allison was out of the door of the bar before he'd finished speaking.

[ - ]

She stopped off at another bar, chasing down the alcohol she'd had with some fried food. Just the right amount of grease to be satisfying, but not so much that it would be at risk of causing an oil slick in her stomach.

She chased the food down with a weak beer, one certainly not strong enough to light her up. _Burning with a blue flame._ She'd heard that phrase aeons ago, on an exceedingly old vid, and when she'd found out what getting drunk did to a biotic, she kept that phrase in her vocabulary.

Someone settled into the seat to the left of her, and Allison snuck over a glance. Tall, muscular, almost white-blond hair and eyes that she couldn't quite make out in the dim glow but may have been grey. He was about as pale as she was, which was saying something - a few people had joked that "spacer pale" had been coined to specifically describe her. She was naturally pale to begin with, and between being under the artificial lights of ships and in armour most of the time when she was on planet, her skin barely saw any natural light that would tan her.

The man beside her ordered up a drink, seemingly ignoring her. She did the same to him, taking a few sips of her drink. There were empty seats further up and down the bar, so this guy choosing to sit next to her wasn't for a lack of options. He tapped on the table in front of him, bringing up the menu, and browsed over it for a few seconds.

"So, Soldier Boy, what are you doing here?" Allison swirled her drink around as she spoke, taking a sip as the man beside her seemed to splutter slightly.

"I, uh, waiting for a ship."

"Naturally." Allison allowed herself to glance over him a second time, this time with him fully aware that she was sizing him up. His slight surprise turned into a small smile, then curiosity as he looked down at her hands.

"Might I ask the same of you?"

"Reassignment." Allison set her beer back down. "Got a few hours to burn while I wait for it to be ready."

The man's expression turned neutral. "What ship?"

"_Seoul._ You?"

"_Warsaw_."

"Huh, so that was a cruiser I saw docked out there." Allison took another sip of her drink. "Branch?"

"Navy. You."

"Marines." The man chuckled, and Allison smiled. She was feeling generous, or maybe that was the alcohol. "Go ahead. I've heard all the reasons why I just can't be a marine."

"You're a biotic, Shepard. Marines kill for people like you in their ranks."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Knowing who I am and still talking to me. Aren't you brave."

"Maybe." The guy grinned, leaning in a little closer. She could see his eyes now - a swirling mix of pale grey and light blue that evoked the ocean on a cloudy day. "Maybe I'm just wanting to get to know you a little better."

Allison downed the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down with a little more force than necessary. She gave one last glance over at him before moving forwards, her lips crashing up against his.


	45. Sex

**045. Sex**

_Date: November, 2177_

Allison stumbled backwards through the door of the miniscule apartment she was staying in. Small enough that there wasn't even a separate bedroom, an aspect that Eli seemed to notice as he broke away from her lips for a second to glance around. His lips were back on hers within a split second after his canvas of the room, quickly moving across her cheek, down her neck, along her collar bone. He pulled her jacket off, shirt away from her shoulder, tracing his tongue along. One hand on the dip in her back, the other on her neck. The hand on her neck crept up a little, and she grabbed it before he hit her amp.

"What?" He pulled back from her, confusion in his eyes.

"I-" Allison felt herself flush slightly. "Not exactly a great place for a biotic to be touched."

Eli smiled a little, dropping his hand back to the nape of her neck and moving in back to kiss her. Allison played with the hem of Eli's shirt, him moving back for a few seconds to allow her to pull it off, dumping it beside the door. They backed towards her bed, her shirt falling somewhere between it and the door. Her boots next, then his, then she was standing there in bra and underwear and he in his underwear. He smiled at her and she mirrored it, shoving down the slight anxiety that was nipping at her.

Eli pulled her close, calloused fingers tracing over the small implant scars on her lower arm. Allison raised an eyebrow but Eli carried on, replacing finger trails with lip trails. He moved up to her bra, unhooking it and dragging it off slowly, pressing light touches of lips to her right arm as he moved across her body.

Allison moved forwards, pressing up against Eli as her bra dropped to the ground. She reciprocated in kind, hands, tongue, lips brushing across face, neck, shoulders, chest. Allison was backed up against the bed, calves hitting it gently.

Eli nudged against her shoulders and she settled down onto the bed, looking up at him. He bent down, pressing a long kiss to her lips - slow, cautious, breath with a hint of the alcohol he'd been drinking. Allison moved a hand up to cup his cheek, moving it down his neck and across his chest as it continued. One of his hands cupped her cheek, the other going down to her breast, teasing and testing.

She opened her mouth wider, tongue slipping between her lips and tracing a path across Eli's bottom lip. A short puff of breath, an almost contented sigh, and he pushed her back against the bed.

His hands moved away, lips remaining for a few seconds. His fingers ghosted over her sides, slight flickers of movement eliciting ticklish reactions. His hands reached her hips, gripping her with slight force as he moved his lips away. He hooked both his thumbs into her underwear - boyshorts, comfortable and practical and _boring_ - and slipped them off, Allison lifting off the bed to allow him better access. Fingers and lips trailed up one thigh, down the other, staying painfully distant, and seeing a small smirk on Eli's face he was doing it deliberately.

Allison sat up, pressing a hand against his chest, fingers splaying over the taut muscle covered by skin. Eli stepped back, a hint of confusion on his face, but Allison gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look. She slipped off the bed, still keeping a hand pressed on Eli's chest, and took a step forwards. Her hand started glowing, a corona covering the tips of her fingers and she traced them over his chest, over his stomach. She reached his underwear and slid it off in one fluid motion, extinguishing her corona and pulling him close.

She kissed him with force, with demand, one hand curling in his hair, the other grabbing his shoulder. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly, the other brushing up against her cheek. She could feel him pressed up against her, feel her own wants and thoughts, mind steering on autopilot to help her satisfy a baser need.

She turned Eli around, pushing him down to the bed. She moved to straddle him, he still sitting up with a small smile on his face.

They moved together, adjustments made and comments muttered, edging the two of them closer. Eli rolled the two of them over, eliciting a small laugh from Allison. More murmurings started up, comments and nudges to focus on this, more laughs slightly echoing around the room and small smiles on faces.

Allison flared uncontrolled but gently as the higher functions of her brain took a temporary leave of absence, turning back to instinct and need. Eli let out an amused laugh at that, the show of biotics seemingly not bothering him. Allison dampened down her almost-reflex action, focusing on more controlled shows of biotics. With Eli's work, that control didn't last too long.

[ - ]

Allison rolled onto her side, looking out across the room. Eli's eyes had been closed but he opened them as the bed shifted, giving her a sleepy smile. Despite the alcohol and sex, she was wide awake. Nerves, anxiety? Most likely - first ship-side posting...no, scratch that, first posting period after getting her N1 designation.

She tried to shuffle down, settle down, get her mind to stop thinking about things. The sex had worked in that regard, but she couldn't exactly screw Eli up until fifteen minutes before she needed to report into the _Seoul_, could she?

"What's so amusing?" Eli asked.

Allison laughed. "Nothing. Just thoughts."

It was Eli's turn to laugh, and when he closed his eyes Allison turned back to look out the tiny window. She could just make out the stars, and in a habit she'd long since formed she traced out paths she'd taken in the past, paths she might travel in the future.


	46. Morning

**046. Morning**

_Date: November, 2177_

Allison's up and awake long before her alarm can chime, and she gives Eli the benefit of a bit more sleep by turning it off for the day. Sliding out of the bed, she barely disturbs him - lying on his back, arm slung across his eyes, hair sticking up in all directions. Allison allows herself a small chuckle at his appearance before scanning the room for her clothes.

Last night's stuff - that which is hers, anyway - gets shoved into a small bag and placed in her sea bag to be cleaned on ship. Eli's clothes she scooped up into a pile and placed them on the recently-vacated side of the bed she'd been sleeping on. That done, she walked over to the small bathroom, taking care to lock the door before starting up the shower.

The water's deliciously hot, and Allison took a small amount of time to soak herself under the spray. Next showers for however long would be on a ship, timed and regulated, and she'd enjoy this one last bit of luxury while she could.

By the time she'd finished her shower and found her ACUs to change into, Eli appeared to just be waking up.

"Morning," Allison said, lifting up the mug of coffee she was drinking from. "Bathroom's free. Your clothes are on the bed."

Eli ran a hand over his face, blinking bleary and sleepy eyes. He didn't seem to be that fazed by waking up in what was essentially a stranger's apartment, and Allison focused down on her coffee as he quickly put on his clothes from the night before. He paused on his way to the bathroom, looking over at Allison.

"There another cup of coffee going?" he muttered, voice low and gravelly, still blinking with slow, sleep-ridden eyes.

"If you're quick. I need to get to my ship in an hour."

A teasing leer drew over Eli's face. "You didn't seem to want me to be quick last night."

Allison laughed, placing a hand over her face as she did so. By the time she'd got it under control and moved her hand down, Eli had disappeared into the bathroom.

[ - ]

Allison poured another cup of coffee ten minutes later, pushing it across to Eli when it was full. He took it gratefully, managing a large sip without even thinking to add any milk or sugar to it.

"When does your ship leave?" Allison asked, swirling the remnants of her coffee around. She looked down at what was left in her mug and what was left in the machine, and got up to get herself a refill.

"Mmm, three hours from now." Eli took another large sip. "Need to try and figure out what I'm going to do in the meantime." That was said with another grin in Allison's direction.

"Nice try. I'm not risking a dressing down just to entertain you for a few more hours." She tried to be serious, but the smile on her face was a giveaway.

"You know, you're different to how the vids make out."

Allison grimaced _Uh-oh...here comes the reason _why_ I hadn't got laid since before Elysium._ "How?"

Eli shrugged. "I don't know. Just...different. Christ, in all those vids they make you look like a hard-ass, no-holds-barred marine. Systems Alliance in your blood, spending all your free time in the gym or at a shooting range." Eli lifted his mug up for a sip before setting it down with a slight bang. "Not...wandering around bars at a station getting drunk and hooking up with random guys. Not complaining on that front, though."

"I'm human. Human thoughts, ideas, needs..." Allison glanced over to Eli at that last one, but he made no motion or comment about it. "Even heroes need some time off, right?"

"Right." Eli finished off his coffee, setting the empty mug down. "I'd better get my ass moving, make sure all my stuff's still in the same place. Lorelei will take any damn chance she gets to mess with my stuff." Eli heaved a sigh, fiddling with his shirt.

"Friend?"

"Sister. Older," he added, standing up. "You'd never know it from the way she acts. Still..." he flashed another smile at Allison. "Good meeting you, Allison."

"You too, Eli."

[ - ]

Allison rubbed the back of her neck as she walked through the crowds, sea bag slung across her chest. It had been twinging slightly earlier in the morning, but since she'd grabbed her bag it had decided to throw a full-out protest, a toddler tantrum telling her it didn't _want_ to have the added weight of her bag on it, that it wanted to stop and rest for a while longer.

She ignored it, hefting her bag up a little more. The _SSV Seoul_ was docked at bay thirteen and while she still had a good twenty minutes to go to cover what was expected to be a five minute walk, Allison preferred to get there early and ensure she knew the layout of a ship before they left.

Allison slipped past a slow-moving group, their uniforms identifying them as more Systems Alliance personnel, but their expressions and appearances identified them as new recruits, looking around the station with unbridled awe.

Sometimes she missed that, being a new recruit and seeing everything with enthusiasm, but most days she was glad to be able to move through stations and get to her destination without playing tourist or needing to ask for directions.

Allison continued to move forwards at a brisk pace, ignoring some of the double-takes she was getting. No one actually approached her, allowing her to brush off the looks are more curiosity than anything.

She slowed as she reached bay thirteen, quickly double checking the name on the side of the ship before moving towards the loading bridge. The main doors opened and she walked through, waiting before the airlock doors.

"_Stand by, shore party. Decontamination in progress._"

Blue-white beams of light moved out into the loading bridge, and Allison closed her eyes against it. A short time later, the decon cycle finished and she moved forwards into the next ship she'd call home.


	47. New

**047. New**

_Date: May 2172_

Gunny Ellison seemed to have it in for Allison Shepard the moment he saw her on his troop. Macapá was horrendously rainy and reasonably humid, seemingly sucking all the energy out of her. Allison had been too used to ships and stations and controlled temperatures and the first blast of heat and humidity had almost taken the breath out of her.

Since she'd had her biotic accident she'd trained _hard_. She burned herself out for a couple of months before she got the balance of biotics, food, and exercise right so that she wouldn't feel lightheaded after a short session. She'd passed the initial tests with no problems, and she'd hit basic expecting that, while it wouldn't be easy, she wouldn't be struggling.

She had been completely, utterly _wrong_.

She'd arrived on time, in a packed shuttle with a gang of other new recruits. Eighty in all, split evenly between men and women. The group split by the two genders, both groups being led away from the landing area and further into the base. The humidity had hit hard and fast, and Allison was soaked from the barely one minute walk over. A few of the others in her troop were filled with nervous excitement and chatter, story swaps and "can you believe" and "didn't expect to see you here".

The loud throat-clearing from Ellison brought most everyone to attention; Allison had already been stock-still from the moment she'd stopped. When a few still refused to stop speaking, that brought out the loud voice.

"You are _not_ here to socialise. You are _here_ so that I can turn you useless tumbledungs into worthwhile soldiers, _not_ emblazoners!" Ellison paced in front of the assembled newcomers, pausing when he passed by Allison. He flicked down to her nametag; she kept her gaze straight and casually focused in the distance.

And that was the sole moment Ellison had it in for Allison.

[ - ]

Despite being a biotic, Allison was always last to pick up the rations and given half the time to eat. If her group was flagging, she was pulled up and berated for any slight. Her locker was inspected more times than anyone else's, and if anything was wrong the whole row was tossed out and ordered to start again.

PT sessions were hell. In the sweltering heat and high humidity, the drill instructors watched for any kind of weakness or failings and jumped straight on it. Failed to do twenty push-ups? Do ten more, with your unit standing there waiting and watching as you struggled through them. Lagging behind the rest of your group on a five mile run? Do an extra mile. If one person in a unit failed, the whole unit failed. If the whole unit failed, it could mean anything from being held back for meals to being assigned kitchen or latrine duty for the next three days.

When Allison's unit first was assigned to KP duty, it had surprised her. Standing in the mess preparing meals hadn't seemed like too much of a punishment, and a few of her unit had verbalised those thoughts.

"This ain't gonna be a walk in the park, sunshines."

Allison just wished she'd taken the warning to heart. At 0500 her unit had been roused from sleep, metal sounds jarring down the walkway and startling Allison into action. Instinctively, she flared up, getting an earful from the drill instructor who'd come to rouse them, glares from people in her unit, and an assignment of extra-hard KP duty for her that day.

The people who cooked the meals ran the mess hard - none of the unit was allowed anywhere near the food cooking area, instead ordered back into the prep section. Allison was shuffled over to where a decrepit mop and bucket had been stored, and was told to mop the floor.

In all innocence, she said, "The scullery?"

It had been, originally; instead, she was ordered to mop up the entire mess - scullery and dining area, and to do it quick because mess opened in thirty minutes.

"And no biotics."

Allison pushed her way through it, determined not to have any more screw-ups that she could be called on. Barely ten seconds before mess opened she had the floors mopped clean and sparkling, and she sighed in relief.

"Shepard. Back to the scullery. Dish duty."

The mess seemed to provide almost unlimited dishes and cutlery that needed to be cleaned. No fancy disposal unit here, nothing that would melt down items into component parts to be reconstructed as they were aboard a space ship; here, things were real and physical and needed to be perfectly cleaned. One spec of anything spotted anywhere, and it was back to the beginning to wash everything up a second time.

By the time Allison and Lyla had finally finished their section of washing up, had everything scrutinized down to its atomic level, and gotten a brief look of "well, you _didn't_ fuck up", it was lunch time and time to start it all over again. Another stream of new recruits into the mess, chaotic noise invading every corner, food dished out from the piles prepped beforehand.

Allison suspected someone had a sick sense of humour when she was pulled to be on serving duty, struggling to keep her attention focused when the sight and smell drew her away from her assigned duties. She slacked, getting reamed out for it in front of other recruits, them delighting in her errors, her punishments.

Her energy flagged, her stomach complained, and she knew that if she didn't get something soon they'd likely be dragging her to the medical centre. Whose fault would that be if she did? Can't push a biotic too hard without adequate food, but they seemed to be damn well determined to do so.

Finally the line ended, Allison throwing the serving spoon down with a wet splat, and turned to look at the cooks. Three of them, all men, seemed to survey what Allison's unit had done, and one of them nodded.

"Grab what you can. Lunch break."

And she had two more days of this to look forward to.


	48. Sunrise

**048. Sunrise**

_Date: May, 2172_

Allison was used to being an early riser, another habit long since formed on ships. When the crew routinely started their day at 0600, it became natural for her to do so as well. A routine set many years ago, and difficult to break.

But one habit that boot camp was determined to break her out of.

0530 turned into Allison's new wake up time, morning PT consisting of a five mile run before anyone even caught the faintest smell of breakfast. If you weren't back at the start line, five miles run, in thirty minutes you did another mile as punishment. A lot of people struggled at the start, breakfast delayed until the last person crossed the line and the instructor gave a brief, unsatisfied nod and yelled at everyone to get to the mess.

Gradually, over the next couple of weeks, it started to get easier to match the demands set. Once everyone could run the five miles in thirty minutes, their time was reduced, bit by bit. Finished within thirty minutes? Now aim for twenty-nine. Done that? New record is twenty-eight.

The only rest they got was on every other Sunday; initially, some recruits took the morning off for extra sleep or recuperation, and were thoroughly slammed for it when it was found out four weeks in.

By the second Sunday, Allison had gotten into enough of a habit that she had woken at 0530, frowning and looking around when the expected sound of metal on metal didn't reach her ears. She still got out of bed, dressed and made her bed to precision, and waited.

When it got to 0600 and no instructor had appeared, she left the barracks to investigate. A group of male recruits were huddled around the basketball court, a frantic game already in session - ten of them on the court itself, the rest huddled around on the bleachers. With the sun not even risen yet, it was promising to be a sweltering day, high in humidity and temperatures slightly above those experienced so far at Macapá.

A muffled yell came from the basketball court; one player contesting a fowl but none of the spectators seeming to offer any kind of confirmation of any wrongdoing. Allison chuckled to herself and moved on, passing by the court as the assembled crowds argued on.

She reached the edge of the camp before too long, placing light fingers on the chain link fence. It creaked from her motions, and she just stood and looked out towards the expanse of scrubland at the back of the camp. Thick, dark, heavy clouds were already set to roll in, promising more rain to soak everyone through if they so much as took two steps out of the buildings scattered around.

Allison shifted away from the fence slightly, gently kicking a crate over and sitting on it. Another smattering of noise came from over near the basketball court - another potential foul, another disagreement. She didn't bother looking back, instead closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. The noise and chaos filtered away soon, leaving quiet discussion and the thump of the basketball hitting the ground.

She opened her eyes after a short while, seeing the sun continuing to rise. Thin tendrils of light crept ever so closer, gradually brightening up the sky. Allison sat there and watched, right up until she heard Gunny Ellison shouting his usual multi-syllable, ten-credit words.

[ - ]

Two weeks later, a similar situation occurred. No 0530 wake up, 0600 moving out of the barracks to scope out the communal area and see what was happening. The basketball games soon had into something more organised, specific teams and squads forming, tokens of varying types changing hands as bets were placed, a rudimentary chart and placings table drawn up and referred to. It had started to coalesce during the short sessions of downtime, giving people something to focus their minds on every other Sunday.

Allison stayed out of the betting pool, having occasionally watched some of the matches from the sidelines, eyes tracking movements and clocking techniques and patterns. Aside from the teams, the other constant was the fact that these basketball matches had almost no rules or limits on body contact; shoving into someone to grab the basketball was a legitimate and even encouraged strategy option. Only real, actual injuries were called up on, and even then there was a debate between the players and the onlookers as to whether such an injury actually counted as a foul, and what the appropriate compensation would be

Like before, Allison bypassed the game completely, the commentary from the sidelines and arguments from the players drifting as absent noise on the non-existent breeze.

The crate that Allison had kicked over beside the fence two weeks ago hadn't been moved - slightly suspicious, but given that it was old, rugged, warped, and dusty, it was more likely it was just waiting time until it was taken to the reclamation unit.

Allison sat down and leaned backwards, back resting against the wall of one of the units on the far side of the camp. It was a little later than her previous visit, the sun higher in the sky and more light around. A couple of footsteps sounded and she glanced over her shoulder to see one of the male recruits; slight smirk on his face, shirt absently thrown over his shoulder, sweat giving his medium skin an interesting sheen in the early light.

"I know you. Shepard, right?"

Allison gave a quick nod. The man seemed to take that as a cue and scuffed over another crate before sitting down beside her. He leaned back, glancing over at the sunset.

"That what you come here for? Just to look?"

If she had been in a better mood, Allison would have made a different comment. Instead she just said, "Spacer kid here. Being on a planet is a bit of a new experience for me." She turned to look at him with a smile. "Seeing as you know my name, you probably knew that anyway."

The man laughed. "Yeah. Known that already. You're a bit of a legend here at the moment." The man stuck his hand out as Allison snorted. "Amil Malik."

"Allison Shepard," she said, shaking his hand.


	49. Decay

**049. Decay**

_Date: March 2182_

_Damn it._

They were far, far too late. The smell of rot and decay filtered through even the internal enviro on Allison's suit, and she hid a grimace below her mask. She backed out of the room, holding her shotgun towards the sky, and moved a hand to her ear.

"Shepard here. No survivors."

'No survivors' was an understatement - from the state of decay, even adjusting for the hot and humid weather on this section of the planet, the people there had been dead for a good week, at least. The prefabs they'd been found in had no electricity, meaning no power for any air cooling systems or even something to vent the smell out. Allison wrenched the door closed, a little harsher than probably intended, and scanned her way down the corridor. This was the last room to be searched, and they'd all come up with the same things - multiple cots packed into tiny areas, bodies strewn about inside. No indicators of any attempts to escape, which meant that whatever had happened to them, they were not thinking about trying to get out of their situation as they died.

"Amit, Alekseyeu, Teply. Get -" Allison paused to swallow. She could say that it was just the planetary conditions that was causing her throat to dry up, but she knew it wasn't, that it was just an excuse, a lie. N7s didn't telegraph emotions or what they were thinking, only worked on action and what needed to be done. "Go back to the other rooms, see if you can find any identifying information."

A chorus of "yes, ma'am" followed their quick disappearance. Allison took a slow breath and opened the door in front of her once again. She stepped cautiously into the room, leaving the door open - logically more so that anyone passing by would see her, and she could see back out. Realistically, she was glad to have an excuse to air out the room, attempt to remove the stench that pervaded every square millimetre of the room.

She moved forwards cautiously, careful to find free space to place her armoured feet down; not necessarily the easiest task when the spaces she saw were narrow, difficult enough even if she wasn't in armour and could step through on her toes. Allison still did her best to slip through, crouching down beside one of the sodden, ruined mattresses on the cots to look out across the room.

All were dressed similarly, light coloured fabrics in androgynous designs. Some were smaller than the others, but not necessarily an indicator of age. All of them had skin pulled taut, stretched over bones with little muscle mass. Hair, where still present, was brittle and dry in all shades expected and then some - one person had hair that just started to have medium brown roots showing from an expanse of purple.

The room itself was as helpful in determining any kind of identification. The cots were all identical, no distinguishing features anywhere, and a search in the small, uniform drawers and under the beds themselves turned up nothing out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of clothing and a pack of physical playing cards that were exceedingly well worn.

"Fuck."

Allison shoved the cards back into their frayed cardboard box and dropped them onto one of the beds. Nothing.

"Alekseyeu, report."

Allison waited a few seconds, completely still in the room, as she waited for a response back. Her eyes wandered down to the bodies around her, but after a few seconds she instead forced herself to stare directly at the wall in front of her instead.

"Nothing. Can't find any identifying information."

A check in to both Amit and Teply confirmed the same thing on the rooms they were searching. Allison ordered a fall-back - they weren't equipped to do a full search, not having expected to need to do one, and they'd need to leave it to those who were.

Allison kept point as her fire team trailed behind her. She'd managed to keep her expression neutral, even as emotions and anger tore around inside her. She stepped out from the prefab into the natural light, fingers itching to rip her helmet off but she quelled them, taking stock and thinking logically.

Distress beacon, largely unknown, unchartered world. Chance intersection between it and _Warsaw_. A platoon of soldiers under her command to scope out the situation; the majority of them scattered to other parts to check more prefabs. Three kept with her for her own investigations.

Information uncovered: practically nil.

Allison closed her eyes. This, once again, didn't make any sense. The abductions on Ganus had tripped this all initially, and while she wasn't superstitious or believed in abstract items such as kismet, she couldn't help a prickling feeling at the back of her head that something was wrong.

She radioed in to the leaders of the other fire teams, all getting the same response - people long-since dead, huskified in the hot weather, no identifying clothing or personal items. So far, it looked like the only real identifying feature was the one woman with purple hair not found naturally in humans, not even with gene mods.

Allison signalled her team back to the LZ with a muffled sigh. She called the shuttles back down, giving a pre-report to the pilots that consisted of a "nothing found, send clean-up."

Allison was the last person on the last shuttle, giving a look around the area before she stepped on. Once the shuttle doors were closed and sealed, she pulled off her helmet. In lieu of anything to do, she held onto it with one hand, her other grabbing the support bar at the top of the shuttle.

Around her, some of the platoon had taken off their helmets and chatted with each other, the images of the people in the prefabs long gone from their minds. Not that she could blame them - switch off emotions, focus on the mission, and let the higher-ups figure out what had gone on there.

If only she had a speck of an idea.


	50. Insanity

**050. Insanity**

_Date: September, 2182_

The definition of insanity was doing exactly the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Quoted many times, attributed rightly or wrongly to multiple people, and something that had ended up almost in the general consensus.

"Halt!"

Allison's voice snapped out across the room, startling almost everyone. She felt slightly old looking out into the amassed crowd of young people, all of them new recruits. Some of them were older than the minimum sign-up age of eighteen, but she suspected not as much. Seventeen people in the room, seventeen people she needed to direct, seventeen biotics she needed to coordinate into some form of coherency.

So far, she was failing miserably. The gym area had been cleared out of anything that wasn't nailed down, and anything that was nailed down but perceived to be a risk. Microscopically thin strip lights was the only illumination afforded in the indoor area, and no mats had been provided for fear that someone could accidentally send it flying across the room to injure someone. Allison had initially mentally laughed at that, but when she saw the skills of the people in front of it, it became a very intelligent thought.

"Again!"

Sixteen of the assembled students resumed prior positions, eight moving closer to the back wall and eight moving to stand in the approximate middle of the gym. The seventeenth person moved in front of Allison, eyes flicking around, wary and cautious.

Who'd want to have Commander Shepard, Hero of Elysium, N7 special ops and biotic soldier as their sparring partner?

Allison quickly flicked her eyes across the gym, checking the movements of her students. A biotic throw was one of the easiest attacks to memorise - blunt force to push someone back. Yet they'd been going at it for two days and only a handful had really made any notable progress.

It was getting frustrating, not only for herself but for some of the people she was training. Those who had managed to get a throw had been re-paired and encouraged to try and exact the same technique with someone who hadn't, but all it had seemed to do was just frustrate both sides.

Allison took a breath, held it for three seconds, then released it. She'd been trying to get her students working with proper techniques and mnemonics the Alliance preferred its biotic soldiers to use (if it was uniform, then if you were in the field against a biotic you could tell what they were going to do by their mnemonic - that was the hope, anyway). She'd failed when her mind had moved back to instinct and relying on the mnemonics she used.

The Alliance wanted the standard mnemonic for a throw attack to be thrusting the arm out, with a side and downwards cut.

Allison's mnemonic for a throw attack was a shove, as if she was physically pushing someone away from her. The Alliance had tried to retrain her mnemonics, but to no avail, and had instead focused on refining the techniques she had already defined herself.

They definitely did _not_ want her passing on her unorthodox mnemonics to any biotics she was teaching, but from the way some of the students were moving, it looked to be a little too late.

"Zehel," she said simply, drawing the attention of the person in front of her. The other woman moved into a combat stance, eyes wide but determined. "Start."

Zehel took a step forwards, thrusting out her arm as she did so. A split-second later, Zehel's arm moved in a downwards diagonal direction. Allison felt the base prickle of gravity altering, but no blue flash pushed her back, no corona licked over Zehel, and Zehel's eyes stayed their usual dark brown.

Allison slid her eyes across as Zehel returned to a neutral position, internally cursing. "Em! Pull your feet in! Use your arms, not your legs!"

Everyone stopped and turned to look at Em; he flushed red slightly but kept a determined look on his face as he returned his left leg to the ground and resumed a neutral position.

Allison hissed curses under her breath as she stormed over, stopping in front of Em, right in his personal space.

"Serviceman Em, what are you trying to accomplish?" Allison practically spat at him; to his credit, he looked in the distance, neutral expression. "What orders did I give for the start of this session?"

"Use only Alliance approved mnemonics, ma'am."

"And what were you doing?" Silence passed for a few moments, Em not responding. "What were you doing?"

"Activating a Throw attack using a non-approved mnemonic."

Allison bit back a growl; Em had been one of the few people who had managed a throw but was continually frustrating her with his inability to follow her commands. He could be good, if he got his ego out of the way.

"Exactly. Everyone!" she snapped, jerking everyone out of the stares they'd been sending in her direction. "Resume start positions. Zehel, with Banks. Em, with me."

Em grinned; Allison had heard mutterings from him about wanting to see the famous Commander Shepard in action, and now he was getting his wish. If he wasn't careful, she'd slam him into a smear on the ground.

"Again!"

Em moved quickly, the grin still on his face. He thrust his arm out, the throw materialising before he'd even moved his hand downwards. Reacting out of instinct, Allison threw up a quick barrier, absorbing most of the strength of the attack. She dropped it a few seconds later and looked over at Em with a discerning eye.

"Good. You can accomplish it."

Em's grin grew wider; Allison stepped forwards, shoving her arm out with an open hand. Her attack hit, a little more forceful than intended, and Em was caught off guard; his eyes widened as Allison's attack hit, sending him sprawling across the gym floor.

The sound of him hitting ground drew everyone's attention, and all eyes were on Allison as she walked over. Keeping neutral, she offered a hand to Em and pulled him back to his feet.

"Everyone. Again."

Insanity. Expecting different results from the same actions.


	51. Weightless

**051. Weightless**

_Date: September 2172_

"Alert. Alert. Failure of artificial gravity systems imminent. Alert. Alert -"

Allison tuned out the rest of the message, the same information being repeated over the comm. system. The technicians on the bridge had already strapped themselves down, and the crew members that weren't able to strap themselves in were hurrying to the sides before they were in zee gee.

Allison dashed over to one of the last remaining sections, clipping herself into the rails that started halfway up the wall and extended all along the ceiling of the ship. She briefly pitied anyone who was bunked up or - she suppressed a small, immature giggle - in the bathroom or attempting to take a shower. At least they got some kind of warning.

A-grav failed, and everyone was jerked into the air. The buzz of the ship's eezo faded slightly, and combined with the sudden, unexpected movement Allison's stomach began to roll in protest.

_I am not going to throw up I am not going to throw up I am not going to throw up..._

The nausea subsided after a few seconds, thankfully - throwing up in her first zee gee simulation was not something she wanted down on her report. After a minute, checking that everything was as expected, some of the crew began to move off. Allison stayed where she was, observing the situation and rituals - securing down anything that was floating around, moving across the deck to check on the safety and situation of others, passing through the doors into another section of the ship.

The elevator was off-limits during zee gee, and the access hatches were annoyingly placed along ground level, nestled neatly along the divide between the white paint which indicated walls and ceiling, and black paint which indicated the floor.

"Shepard."

Allison glanced over, seeing one of the crew beside an access hatch. With some effort, she reached up and pulled herself towards the ceiling. She unclipped herself and pushed off from the ceiling, grabbing onto generously-spaced handles in the wall to keep herself moving in the right direction. As she got to the access hatch, she grabbed the top railing and pulled herself in.

With some careful manoeuvring she managed to slip into the access hatch. Moving downwards was easier than she had expected, although still a little tricky - with no gravity to work with her, she had to ensure she kept a close grip on the railing and ensure her feet were securely planted before moving on.

After a good number of minutes - time that would have been reduced exponentially had a-grav been on - Allison made it onto the lower deck. She pushed away from the access hatch and re-clipped herself to the railing, slamming a hand against the wall in an effort to stop her momentum.

A few minutes more passed before Dagan appeared through the hatch; he took stock of the number of people present and seemed to be satisfied. He hooked onto the railing and glanced back at the access hatch before turning his attention to the assembled people.

"CIC has been evacuated of all non-essential personnel. Cargo bay has been locked down. Assumed action is...?"

Everyone else was silent for a couple of minutes. Allison and three other people fresh out of boot camp were nearby, and everyone was looking at one of the four of them. Eventually, Allison spoke.

"Assumed action is to get to a safe point in the ship. A-grav systems are often disabled in a firefight to reduce heat generation and increase combat endurance."

Dagan nodded, seemingly glad that someone had answered. "What determines a safe point?" he added, focusing on Allison. She swallowed nervously as everyone else's attention also turned to her.

"Structurally sound, away from any observation ports, ability to close doors or erect barriers, preferably in the centre of the ship."

Allison looked around as she spoke - they were on the crew quarters which filled in most of the specs she had stated from memory, and Dagan seemed to note that as well. He unclipped himself and pushed off, moving across the open deck and pulling himself along when needed. He inspected the far side of the deck, devoid of any people, before manoeuvring himself back.

"This area looks suitable. We'll wait here."

Dagan reclipped himself onto the railing, moving himself forwards a little bit and positioning himself at the fore of their small group.

Allison was a little glad they didn't have to fight against a-grav; if she had been trying to suspend herself for as long as she had already there would have been some issues. She was pretty strong, sure, but the gene mods she'd had to enhance her muscle mass wouldn't kick in for a good number of years yet, and even then the human body had its limits.

After what seemed like an eternity, the ship's VI announced another message through the ship's systems.

"Alert. Alert. Artificial gravity systems to be restored in thirty seconds. Alert. Alert..."

Dagan took initiative, unclipping himself and pushing down to the ground. Everyone around Allison unclipped themselves as well, pushing down and doing their best to stay floating at just above deck level.

Allison stayed where she was, waiting for everyone to move out of her way. She felt the tug of a-grav returning, the line she was clipped to turning taut as it suddenly had to take her weight. She reached behind her and unclipped herself, a brief split-second of freefall towards the heavy ground before her corona appeared.

A suitably placed lift slowed her enough to land her down on the deck with a soft thump, drawing the attention of everyone around her. Was it showing off? Maybe. She brushed back her hair, turning to look at Dagan.

"Resume your previous posts," he said, folding his arm across his chest. Everyone began to move off, most heading back to the CIC deck to resume duties there, Allison joining them. By the time they'd all gotten into the elevator, everyone's mind was back on work.


	52. Seeking Solace

**052. Seeking Solace**

_Date: July, 2157_

Dominick looked up from the vid screen as small footsteps sounded down the hallway, accompanied by a light dragging sound. Most of the floors in the prefab were wood, tile, or similar hard and cold material and carried sound very effectively. That and the thin walls typical of prefabs also meant sound carried between prefabs almost equally as effectively.

A few seconds later, a bleary-eyed toddler walked into the living room, a well-hugged stuffed panda that was almost as big as she was hanging from her arms. She rubbed her eyes languidly before yawning, and looked over at Dominick.

"Hey darling. Can't sleep?"

"No," Allison muttered, pouting. She moved over to the sofa and tried to pull herself up while still holding her toy; Dominick grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up a moment later, settling her on his lap and turning her away from the vid screen.

"Wanna tell your daddy about it?"

Allison pouted even more, and huffed. "Why's Mummy gone?"

"Well...Mummy had to go and work." Mentally, Dominick winced. "You've not been like this when she's had to go to work before."

"It's night time. Mummy doesn't work at night."

Dominick tightened his arms around Allison. "Well...she has to now."

"Why?" Allison looked up at Dominick with her green eyes. Green eyes that were starting to tear up, and as if to accentuate her point she began to sniff.

"Well...sometimes she needs to do something that other people can't do. She does some special work."

Allison sighed and hugged her panda closer. Her head dropped and she closed her eyes. "I want her back home."

_So do I, darling._ "She'll be home soon. You'll see."

Allison sniffed again, and Dominick could just about see tears starting to trickle down Allison's face. He wiped them away with his thumb, pulling her close and tightening his arms around her again.

"How about this? When Mummy comes back home we'll have a nice party, okay? Cake and ice cream and your favourite foods. What about that?"

Allison sniffed again. "'Kay," she said after what seemed like an eternity. Dominick smiled faintly, standing up and carrying her out of the living room.

"Come on, I'll read you some stories while we wait."

[ - ]

A couple of hours later, with Allison asleep and tucked into bed for hopefully a longer time this occasion, Dominick was back in the living room. He'd turned it to one of the numerous news channels, but so far there was little information forthcoming. What they were repeating was the same information he'd heard over and over again:

"Human colony of Shanxi is under siege. Reports have come in, describing the aggressors as avian-like and with advanced technology. Second Fleet is mobilising forces to attack."

And Hannah was on the second fleet. A Staff Lieutenant on one of the smaller ships, and had been called up just after Allison had been put to bed. The expression on Hannah's face had been blank, but Dominick could tell from the set of her shoulders and the way she moved that the news wasn't good, and she'd relented after packing her sea bag.

"Take care of Allison."

While those words hurt, he knew exactly why she had said them. They had no idea who they were up against, no idea of their capabilities, and unlike the almost mythical Protheans they were here and _real_ and attacking a human colony.

Hannah had been convinced that Dominick's omni-tool was seconds away from pinging with a mail from Alliance Command, telling him to rendezvous with transport, pack a bag, drop their daughter off with her grandparents or aunt and uncle, but nothing had come of it. Hannah had been exceedingly relieved before she'd left; bad enough taking off in the middle of the night without being able to tell Allison what was happening, even worse when both parents disappeared and she was left with extended relatives instead.

Dominick got to his feet and flicked off the vid screen - still no new information, and he'd be useless if he didn't get any sleep that night.

[ - ]

Allison had woken in the morning in a sour mood, and had made a point of dragging her panda everywhere she went; even at breakfast, where Dominick had cooked up a batch of pancakes for the two of them, she refused to let go even when he said about her getting syrup over it. Allison instead had looked at him stubbornly and he dropped the matter.

She'd eaten in silence, picking up pancakes with syrup-laden fingers and taking small bites. Dominick had set the music system in the house to a random but pre-filtered selection of music he had access to, not wanting to risk Allison hearing something on the news and starting to ask question again.

Once breakfast was done, Allison wiped her fingers and face clean on Dominick's request before getting down from the table and moving into the living room. When he looked in a few minutes later, she'd already found her data pad and was using her fingers to draw a picture on it. Satisfied that she was okay, he cleaned up the kitchen before joining her. He loaded up a book on his omni-tool, and aside from the music the two sat in silence.

"Why aren't you watching the vid screen?" Allison asked a few minutes later, turning to look at Dominick. "You were watching it a lot last night."

"I...was just watching random things. Nothing in particular." Dominick smiled at Allison, and she seemed to accept that as she went back to her drawing and Dominick went back to his book. He glanced over on regular intervals, seeing Allison draw, then erase, draw again, erase again, then shift over to one of a number of games installed on the data pad. Allison kept the sound on it, little clinks and metallic dings adding to the general background music.

"Mummy's not coming home for a while, is she?"

Dominick sighed. Damn Allison for being so observant. "I'm afraid not, darling."


	53. 67 Percent

**053. 67 Percent**

_Date: May 2169_

Allison scanned through the results board, eyes flicking through to find her student number. Being her last name starting with an 'S', she was quite a ways down the board and she had to shoulder past a couple of others who had no intention of doing anything other than standing in the way. Eventually, she found her number and traced across to her results.

_English: 79 percent_

_Math: 92 percent_

_Science - Biology: 88 percent_

_Science - Physics: 80 percent_

_Science - Chemistry: 75 percent_

_Physical Education: 84 percent_

_History: 95 percent_

_Geography: 80 percent_

_Art: 97 percent_

_Technology Studies: 67 percent_

_Xeno Studies: 80 percent_

_Overall: 83.4 percent (__**Pass**__/Fail)_

_Ah, shit..._Allison had passed that year, sure, but her tech scores were abysmal. For her, at any rate. Sixty-seven was more than a pass rate (that was fifty-five percent) but it was still far from a distinction score which is what she had been hoping for. She'd hit distinctions on every other class except for Chemistry, and even then that had only been down to a simple error on answering the exam that she only noted after it was over. Before leaving the school, she'd made plans to retake than exam in the summer and push her score up towards the almost mythical eighty percent.

Now it looked like she'd have to re-take Technology Studies, too. Allison had known she hadn't done that well on the exam, but didn't think her score had been _that_ low.

A few more people brushed past Allison, and she moved back. The scores had been posted at the end of the school day, causing a crush of people to swing by the board before heading home, and Allison had to manoeuvre her way through the crowds towards the main entrance of the school.

[ - ]

The Hathor fleet depot wasn't one of the oldest around but that wasn't obvious from simply looking at it. Close to Arcturus it seemed that people had decided it was almost unnecessary and had odds and ends and scraps of the fleet. It was also tiny, and within a few months Allison had gotten to know pretty much everyone around by sight, if not by name. They, in return, knew who she was and on more than a few occasions people had stopped to chat amicably about anything that seemed to take their fancy. Just why they thought a teen was the best person to ask about such things as the quality of the fleet stationed at the depot, or her opinions on the newest ship to join, she suspected it was less to do with her and more to do with her mother.

Allison nodded a quick greeting to someone as they raised their hand to her, a smile on their face. The station that was the centre of the depot wasn't large, and could easily be crossed on foot in an hour if one had the inclination to do so. No skycars, but automated trams ran instead; no high-vaulted ceilings but closed-in ones, and if weren't for the widely-spaced windows it would have invoked a feeling of claustrophobia amongst everyone within a matter of weeks.

The safety specifications for stations were more relaxed than ships, allowing for some viewports sprinkled along - not many, but enough, and over the years some of them had become meeting spots, as dangerous as that was. Allison slipped onto the edge of a bench, dumping her backpack next to her and leaned back, gazing out of the window.

[ - ]

"I'm home!"

Allison paused and listened as the door to the 'house' closed behind her. Space being a premium in stations, there wasn't anything in the way of an entrance hall; instead, the apartment front door opened up into a living room, with the kitchen beyond, two bedrooms and a bathroom to the side. No personal items or touches, and light, classical music filled the silence - her mother most certainly wasn't home as the VI had been instructed to only play such when Allison was on her own.

She slipped the backpack off her back, slinging it into her room as she passed it, and headed up into the kitchen. Clean and spotless, no note on a data pad or similar. Well, she was fifteen, and it wasn't like a few hours alone in their apartment was going to break her.

Allison moved back into her room, emptying out her bag onto the bed. The now-empty bag was folded up and carefully placed next to the scattered items, and Allison set to work sorting them out. Empty data pads to be stored with the others for when needed; data pads with textbooks sorted into either a pile to keep or a pile to wipe; data pads with her work into another to keep pile.

All of them items were moved off the bed and onto the floor once sorted, and Allison lifted up the mattress of the bed, revealing the storage underneath. Within fifteen minutes, most of the items she'd sorted had been placed under the bed, and the mattress returned to its usual position.

Allison grabbed some data pads which held her technology studies textbook, and all the notes and assignments related to it that she'd made over the months. Just as she was settling down to start reading over it, she heard the faint hiss of the door opening, and seconds later the music stopped.

"Hi, sweetheart," Hannah said, a smile on her face as she saw Allison come out of her room. Hannah slipped off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "How did it go?"

Allison shrugged. "Got my results. Eighty-three percent." She worked her jaw a little, sucking in her bottom lip and nibbling on it slightly. "I...failed my tech studies exam. Not _failed_ failed," Allison added, seeing the mix of shock and surprise on her mother's face. "But I didn't do as well as I wanted."

"What did you get?"

"Sixty-seven percent."

"Isn't that a bit over the pass rate."

"Yeah." Allison forced herself to stop worrying her bottom lip. "I'm gonna be retaking the exam during the break."

Hannah made a non-committal noise to that, moving past Allison's bedroom and into the kitchen. A short while later, the sound of an electric kettle boiling filled the apartment, and more time later Hannah came back with two mugs, handing one over to Allison.

"Did you want me to get your father to help you?" Hannah asked innocently as Allison took a tentative sip of her tea. Allison paused, considering, before she answered.

"Yeah. Probably best."


	54. Night

**054. Night**

_Date: December 2177_

Living on ships and stations, one got used to the oddities and intricacies there. A house on a planet without windows would be absurd, but in space where windows were less a necessary and more a hazard, it was understandable. Pre-packaged and shipped in from afar, kept in storage, or a mix of both, food was hardly as appetising as it seemed on vids and in recipe books, but the necessity of it and the impracticalities of ensuring a good, constant supply of fresh food meant it sufficed.

Space was a premium, and people got used to either being cramped into tiny crew quarters, hot bunking, or both. The first time Allison had a bed that was hers and hers alone was practically a celebration in itself. There was barely any privacy on a ship, anxiousness and/or privacy quickly swept away after the first few days.

The chain of command on military ships was strongly regulated and highly enforced, although those that made it on to ships had been through boot camp and knew the expected level of deference.

Drills were practised and rehearsed with precision. Knowing how to put out an electrical fire for a civilian on a planet was left to professionals; on a ship, the professional was you and anyone else nearby who could be counted on to wield a fire extinguisher. A-grav failure, you counted on others not to be a burden to you, and they counted on you not to get in their way.

Allison had been through pretty much all of those aspects long before her fellow recruits, and some even looked to her for help and guidance on some issues. She'd inwardly laughed at some of the new recruits, people who'd landed on a ship-side posting with naught but the bare minimum of training. They were used to farms and fields, or skyscrapers and subway systems, an open world where you weren't limited by airlocks and bulkheads.

She'd overheard some musings early on on her first posting - older, more experienced soldiers making a small game out of where the new recruits had come from. You could tell the ones from farming colonies, they said, because they always walked around with a startled expression at such a sudden change in their situation. The city kids were better, having dealt with crowds and smaller living conditions, but still needed some time to adjust.

"And that Shepard kid?"

"She's a spacer. Could tell from the moment she walked in. Only people who step onto a spaceship with that kinda confidence and absence of worry is someone who grew up in a ship."

The one thing Allison hadn't gotten used to was the artificial day and night cycle. On a ship, lights were on permanently, only dimming during the eight hours first and second shift were to be asleep. Even now, five years after signing up for the Alliance, it was something that still bugged her. She ran on Zulu time; could be up, awake, dressed, and alert in under five minutes from one short command; had been on groundside missions where continued pursuit was key and rest came in short, hurried bursts; yet her body had never quite adjusted to what was supposed to be time to sleep.

She averaged the typical six hours expected, but in bursts rather than a continued lump. Four hours here, two one hour naps; two three hour blocks; and even in one memorable occasion one two hour block with the other four hours cobbled together from quick power naps when and where she could take them.

Planet-side, it wasn't a problem. The sun set and she slept fine; the sun rose and she woke. It just seemed to be the continued absence of any efforts at creating anything resembling a natural night that hindered her.

Allison was strongly reminded of this as she laid on her bed, perfectly straight and on her back, arms by her side and hands relaxed. She was on the middle bunk, one person both above and below her, and from the soft sounds in the room she was the only one awake.

She was staring up at the bottom of the bunk above her, wooden slats and wire mesh all that was keeping the person above her falling into her own space. On the wood, however, Allison was mentally drawing pictures and writing notes; it had been a few weeks since she'd returned from Vila Militar, and she'd settled back into a shipside posting easily. She'd known many a person who'd been jealous of the number of ship-side postings she had obtained, some not-so-subtly expecting that it was because of her mother that she'd been given so many opportunities.

The truth was far simpler - she was a biotic, a rarity in the Alliance Military, and she was willing to take up a ship-side posting anywhere. Hover around Jump Zero? Not a problem, sir. Spent six months out on the fringes of the Terminus Systems? I'll be on the next transport out. She was willing to take all assignments, no matter how boring or far-flung they might be. Other people had family to consider, the potential of not wanting to stay so far away without an active war on - despite what the batarians thought, there was no war between them and humanity.

Allison bit back a growl of frustration, slipping out from her bunk. In her sleep wear - tank top and leggings - she managed to quietly move away from the beds and out the door of the quarters almost silently. It was a good couple of hours into third shift, a bare bones crew moving through the ship like phantoms.

Allison moved through to the mess, far beyond the stage where she'd care about anyone seeing her. She couldn't sleep, was making herself some tea, nothing strange about that at all.

She boiled up enough water for two cups, making sure to select a decaf variety - with sleeping being difficult enough as it was, no sense in making her options worse - and settled into a small corner with her drink, waiting for exhaustion to set in.


	55. Red

**055. Red**

_Date: February 2167_

Allison mused to herself as she looked around briefly before sitting down on an almost empty bench. Lowell City held the debated distinction of being humanity's first off-world settlement. The fact that it was the next planet over, three months' travel time by conventional means back then, was a non-issue. Statements about terraforming, mining for rare elements, building something of their own and being able to start pushing out into space and seeing just what was there were thrown about, excitement at humanity finally being able to leave their home planet exceedingly evident.

Then the excavation teams turned up Prothean technology and refined eezo, and humanity took a leap forwards. Two hundred years, people said. Imagine technology going from the 1800s to the new millennium almost overnight, going from travel via horse and carriage, breezing past trains and fossil-fuel powered automobiles and terrestrial planes and going straight towards spaceships and shuttles. Going from communications being talking to the nearest person or basic postal systems, to being in contact with anyone around the world almost instantaneously. With no warning, humanity had unlocked the secrets to FTL travel, mass field manipulations, and the galaxy started looking that bit smaller.

Of course, the discovery of the Charon Relay a year later made the galaxy even smaller. Arcturus station, First Contact War, turians, asari, salarians, krogan, Citadel, Council races...not even twenty years and humanity had gone through some major overhauls. The simple idea that some kids around were born after the First Contact War, or had no strong memories of life before meeting other sapient life forms, was almost inconceivable to some.

Lowell City had pretty much been abandoned from that point, colonising new words and exploring the galaxy being a much higher priority than ensuring their neighbouring planet was suitably developed. Development stagnated, leaving the majority of people on Mars employed in some way to investigate the ruins; the rest worked at the spaceport, the small construction company, or in the miscellaneous shops and businesses that followed humanity around.

The spaceport was the sole reason Allison was there; a transfer from the ship she and Dominick had been on to a new one. Her father had been a little startled when he'd been given notice of the transfer, Allison having been sitting down in Engineering with him when the head engineer had passed over the news. After the initial shock had worn off, Dominick had moved to pack his belongings and Allison had done so also - she had still been getting used to coming along on ship-side postings, but it seemed that as long as she stayed quiet and out of trouble people were willing to tolerate her being there. If she'd been tech-minded, they probably would have adored her in Engineering. As it was, she huddled down, listening and looking, keeping quiet as she observed the goings-on.

She was good at it, although she didn't do stealth too well. She couldn't sit still for long enough for that; some part of her had to keep moving, most often meant she jogged her legs as she watched, or alternated between observing scenes around her and sketching out on a data pad.

Unfortunately, with no data pad in hand and only a scant number of people around, she was left stuck staring out at the endless expanse for some form of entertainment. The layover was only intended to be for a few hours, but a number of hours had passed already and Allison's patience was starting to grow thin. The view she was looking out of stretched on for miles, across the vast expanse beyond Lowell city. The old nickname of 'the red planet' had held true through expeditions and initial colonisation attempts - everything, from the ground to the sky, had a red hue to it.

_Alien_.

Allison snorted to herself, drawing the attention of the few people around her. Strange how a planet next to where humanity started was more strange and alien than planets out around the Terminus Systems. But then, she supposed, two planets in the same system with almost identical attributes was so statistically unlikely to be impossible; two planets half a galaxy away with similar attributes was much more reasonable.

Allison turned her attention away from the view outside, and down to her omni-tool. She'd been fiddling with a new programme, new code, trying to adjust it to her liking. Her father had suggested it to her one afternoon while down in Engineering when she had little else to do. Dominick had expected it to take her a couple of weeks at the most; three months later, she was still fiddling with it and getting nowhere.

It felt like she'd poked and prodded and combed over every little section of code and was no closer to any kind of refinement or understanding of the base programme. She'd run through it over and over, testing out new ideas and configurations, but none did anything other than slow the programme down. She'd checked out sites and guides on the extranet, but none of the advice and instruction offered had helped any. If Allison hadn't been so stubborn about getting it to work, she would have thrown her omni-tool away in frustration.

"Allison."

She glanced up to see her father a short distance away, voice having been loud enough to carry but not so loud as to be a near-shout. Allison flicked off her omni-tool and grabbed her bag as she stood up; she slung it over her shoulder and jogged over to where Dominick was standing.

"Our ship transfer's come through; we should be on the _Cairo_ soon."

Allison grimaced. "Soon? We've been here for hours already." Allison sighed to herself and switched her omni-tool back on, tapping on it as they walked away from the communal area and towards one of the docking bays.

The _Cairo_ had a shuttle transport scheduled in when it did finally arrive; even with Mars' thinner atmo it was still exceedingly difficult for a carrier to make it down planet-side. Allison slipped into a seat closest to the front, craning her neck around and looking out of the front window as the red planet zoomed away from them.


	56. Biohazard

**056. Biohazard**

_Date: November 2182_

The decon process had worked as it always did, scanning through and eliminating most potentially dangerous pathogens. Then the ground team had been re-scanned, checking their before results with their after results. Normally, the VI would signal an all-clear and allow them to proceed into the ship, satisfied that they were carrying nothing dangerous that could affect the ship or the wider galaxy.

This time, however, the VI had slammed down override protocols. The ground team had been carrying something with them that was either dangerous enough to shuffle them into a more thorough decon, or had been resistant enough to the regular decon cycle to trigger an alert.

The cargo bay had been evacuated of all but essential personnel before the ground crew had returned, and those that were now stuck in the cargo bay had been sending annoyed glances in the direction of the ground team. Allison had kept her helmet on while everyone else removed theirs, flicking through the HUD screen to see if it turned up anything while they waited in the hold.

They had also done a drop in the Mako, meaning any contamination they'd picked up on their bodies was also likely to be on the Mako, a much more involved and lengthy decon process. In all likelihood it would be sent to reclamation, stripped down to component parts and checked over to ensure nothing could contaminate any further sections. Then it'd be melted down and reused for something else - Allison just hoped that people's complaining about the Mako's inability to use wasn't something deeply encoded into its very atoms.

Allison's HUD flashed slightly, showing it had finished running the scans and queries she had asked it to. It blinked back a helpful message of 'no data found', and if her suit's VI had a voice she imagined it would have stated that message out loud in an annoyingly perky, happy voice.

She sighed as she imagined the kind of appearance that VI would take. Happy and cheery, a huge grin on its face no matter what the occasion, exceptionally ecstatic to tell Allison that it knew fuck-all about the potential contaminant let loose into the hold.

"Urgh." Allison let her head fall back against a small scattering of crates that had been left in the hold. They'd been in stasis for a couple of hours while the higher-ups ran scans, though it had felt like much longer. Her underarmour was sticking to her more than it should have been, aided by the sweat built up from running around in a sealed armour set. When moving, it was a minor issue, a simple distraction that could be shoved to the back of one's mind; when still, it was an annoyance of one trying to peel it from skin, the instinct to unlock armour, strip off underarmour, and cleanse away the pain and damage of the mission.

Allison moved her head forwards and fiddled with the latch on her helmet; she was still the only one left wearing it, everyone else who had one having put theirs into a pile. Her head nudged back against the crates, and she mused slightly. Weapons, ammo, armour, mods? She just hoped it wasn't food supplies; if they were going to be down here any length of time, they'd be okay - assuming they could get into the crates with what they had scattered around - but the crew above would need supplies replenished...and with the cargo bay sealed, that would be an interesting discussion on where it would all be stored.

For now, all they could do was sit and wait.

And that was the one thing Allison hated above all else.

[ - ]

As the hours passed, Allison moved from her spot by the crates, to hanging around by the Mako, to chatting with some of the ground crew, to chatting with some of the hold crew, and back to where the crates were. She'd cycled through programmes on her omni-tool multiple times, fed through some music to alleviate the boredom, shut it off when someone commented about it, and just existed in a state of boredom.

She'd helped wrench open one of the crates (with permission from the ones higher-up) and passed around the emergency rations and MREs to people. She'd divided them up according to ration allowances and trusted people to take care of their own needs. She'd hammered out an agreement to extend the quarantine a little further to give access to bathroom facilities, and to pass through some clothing for the ground team. They'd managed quick, cold showers, the water being specifically siphoned off and stored somewhere on the ship. Wasted resources, but it helped everyone feel a little bit better.

Allison was in her ACUs, nibbling on an energy bar as she glanced around the room and took stock. Seven hours after first being shoved into quarantine, and no change in their situation. She could feel the eezo core above them, but no other information as to whether they were on the move or staying still. If they were travelling through a mass relay corridor, she'd feel it, but the more subtle motions of FTL were indistinguishable to a ship with the engine running but staying stock still.

Everyone else had seem resigned to a few days of MREs and bunking down in the hold, and a couple were already asleep on makeshift beds. Allison had attempted to sleep but between their situation and her occasional difficulty in _staying_ asleep, it had lasted all of an hour. She'd retreated back to what had become her vantage spot, with a couple of empty, upturned crates to give her something to perch on rather than standing continuously. She'd stuffed her armour in yet another empty crate and shoved it to the far side of the hold - it hadn't started to smell _yet_, but she didn't want it anywhere near when it inevitably would.

The comm. crackled to life, drawing the attention of everyone in the hold.

"You're clean. Running a second decon scan. You'll be out of there within the hour."


	57. Aloof

**057. Aloof**

_Date: February 2174_

Allison was in a very precarious position. She was a good couple of years older than some of the new recruits that were filtering in through the system, but apparently not old enough to be considered 'one of the team'. She couldn't compete in some of the stories told after shift end, huddled around lukewarm cups of bland coffee, exaggerated arm movements and loud voices telling and retelling stories that seemed to get more incredulous with each telling.

She couldn't chat with the new recruits and allay their fears - from some of the friendly hazings (as much as an oxymoron as that seemed) they saw anyone who wasn't a fellow new recruit as someone to be mildly suspicious of, at least while ship-side. Groundside the suspicion wasn't there, not least because you couldn't _afford_ to make the person who might have your back in the next five minutes nervous in any manner. She'd seen the last time a green had been spooked and let off friendly fire, and was just glad that she'd been able to throw up a barrier to stop herself from being added to the injured list.

So...eighteen months into her career as an Alliance soldier and she didn't fit in. The people she'd been with on her first tour were all taking some shore leave; shore leave that had also been offered to her but she declined, instead jumping on a posting out on the Skyllian Verge. She'd been looked at oddly when she refused to go on leave, but between her file and her biotics she'd been welcomed onto the ship, albeit a little cautiously.

Now, she sat in a corner of the mess, poking lethargically at her food, and absently watched as the new recruits banded together, and the experienced soldiers hailing another of their kind over to start re-telling story number sixty-five for the twenty-second time.

Within a couple of weeks, that sitting at the edge of the mess became habit. The green recruits coalesced into a more functional unit, and the exaggerated stories grew less exaggerated. Allison still kept on the edge, being involved but not really included in the greater camaraderie that was forming. It almost seemed like Allison herself was one group, and all of the ground team was another. They exchanged nods in the hallways, generic greetings in the mess, and casual chat on the battlefield, but nothing more.

Allison had tried to manoeuvre her way into the slightly older and seemingly more experienced crew, but all efforts seemed to end in failure. They'd be friendly enough, include her in conversation, but the moment she stopped making the effort they stopped being willing to interact with her.

In return, Allison stopped trying to make the effort.

[ - ]

The whispers started up during the second month. They had been there during the first, but muted and shared only between close groups; now, they were more like exaggerated stage whispers, pretending to be private while really broadcasting across the mess.

"And here she comes again. You know she's Commander Shepard's kid right?"

"Oh, yeah. Spacer kid, right?"

"Uh-huh. Navy brat. Probably never been off ships before in her life."

Raucous laughter sounded around the small group of people.

"Probably knew reg inside out by the time she was five."

"That why she's such a stuck-up?"

"I know, right? Thinks she's better than all us, perfect little Spacer kid."

"Aw, hey now, you can probably blame some of that on her mom. Probably fed her ego and built her up to be the ideal of the perfect soldier."

"Isn't she a biotic too?"

"Yup. Just waitin' for her to snap. Y'know, 'cause they're all like that, a ticking time bomb."

Allison grimaced to herself, and quickly finished up her meal. CO Adams had scheduled her in for some personal biotics training down in a cleared-out section of the cargo bay, and she was running a little late.

Finishing up her meal, she dumped the tray in the washing pile, grabbed a couple of energy bars, and walked casually out of the mess. The people who had been muttering and chatting about her fell silent as she drew closer, but the looks on their faces said they knew she'd overheard and didn't care. First, a swing by Adams before heading down to the cargo bay - he'd understand if she was a little late.

[ - ]

The cargo bay was thankfully empty and silent, allowing Allison to practise in private. It had been something that Richbow had noted down in her file and passed along as a recommendation to her future COs, and Adams had accepted the information with a nod and a comment about arranging such times for her to practise.

Allison's corona died and she flung her arms up in the air in frustration as yet another lift went wide of the mark. She could rant and curse and question why, but she knew the exact reason, and it was only fuelling her sour mood.

She moved back to position, closed her eyes and breathed out in an attempt to settle her mood. Opening her eyes, she looked around and analysed her situation. Seconds later, her corona flared to life and she aimed a lift at one of the empty boxes. It floated into the air for a good few seconds before the corona around it disappeared and it clattered back down to the ground.

_Screw them. Screw them _all_._

Another lift, this time at one of the boxes that had scattered around due to her earlier efforts. It moved up effortlessly, and while the corona was active Allison flicked around to another box.

A few minutes later, she was juggling a small number of boxes, lifting them up seconds after they fell, continually keeping them all airborne. She could feel the tips of her fingers tingling, a slight wobble in her vision, signs of caution rather than signs of warning.

She cut her corona down, all boxes clattering to the floor at the same instant. A hand went up to her nose, gently patting before she pulled it away to look. No blood; that was good.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Adams was there, his arms folded across his chest and a glower on his face.

"Shepard," he said. "I'd like to discuss what you came to see me about a short while ago."


	58. Beach

**058. Beach**

_Date: June 2180_

Allison scrunched her toes in the sand, wiggling them around and feeling the coarse grains around her feet before she looked up. Shore leave, again, and she had agreed to this without much argument. She didn't like to admit it, but she had been on edge on almost every shore leave since '76, and anyone who knew her beyond being Lieutenant Shepard understood exactly why.

As she looked across the beach, her mind ticked into soldier mode. She spotted potential escape routes, various hazards, and potential dangers. She ticked off the type of people who were nearby, analysing their gait and ages, estimating their potential to get away if danger struck and their potential ability to fight, if the need would arise.

The one thing that annoyed her was that she had nowhere to carry a pistol that wouldn't draw attention. She was barefooted, her light brown shorts rolled up, her faint yellow tank top showing off her arms but doing little else. In retrospect, she _could_ have attached a holster to her hip, but going around in a tourist destination with a loaded pistol would raise more questions that it was worth.

Isuss was nothing like Elysium, or any number of planets along the Terminus systems. It was firmly in Alliance space, a depot less than a day's journey away, and beyond the tourist spot had a reasonably well-developed military presence, much more than on the typical colony planet.

Allison knew that for certain; the military base had been the very first place she'd stopped and checked out, even before checking into her hotel. The guards had been a little suspicious, but when her name had dropped they'd relented a little.

Even those who only knew her as Lieutenant Shepard knew why she was on edge while on leave on random planets.

Isuss was like Amaterasu in having stable, all year round warm weather. That was a rather good explanation as to why, despite being at the start of the end of school year break, the beach was practically empty.

Allison realised that she'd been standing on the edge of where the beach met with the pavement, and moved forwards. The shoes she had been wearing (flip flops - impractical, uncomfortable, solely designed to be something to be worn for short time spans before being kicked off) she picked up and hooked on two fingers; her bag, she hiked up her shoulder, more out of habit that it having been falling down.

A couple of families with small children had laid claim to a few of the deckchairs, scattering their belongings in a circle of arm's length radius. Allison moved away, keeping partially out of sight. She grabbed a deckchair that was about halfway down the beach, just forward enough to be able to see the sea, but close enough back to the pavement and a quick path back to buildings.

_Allison, stop it._

She rubbed a hand over her eyes, sighing. She swore she'd never been this anxious on shore leave, had never noticed her own parents being this nervous...maybe it just came about because of Elysium. She'd certainly not been like this on Terra Nova shortly after, but reasonable explanation said that anyone who tried to attack another human colony so soon after the Skyllian Blitz would be met with a wave of Systems Alliance forces. _Everyone_ had been on alert after that.

Ironically, now everyone else was relaxed and she was the one continually on alert. She spread out her belongings on the deckchair next to her, rolling up a towel and placing it near the headrest, snagging her sunglasses and slipping them on, but kept the majority of her belongings in her bag. She loaded up her omni-tool and tried to settle in to a nice relaxing day of doing nothing but sitting on the beach and reading a book.

[ - ]

Allison practically blazed through everything that Isuss had to offer - the beaches, clubs, typical tourist traps mixed with a couple of history or local wildlife tours. She attempted everything she could reasonably get to, all just to keep her mind occupied. When there was nothing on offer or nothing to do that she hadn't already done, she wandered down to the beach closest to the hotel, new book on omni-tool and settled into one of the deckchairs to read.

One of the families she'd seen on the beach during her first day disappeared two days later; a young couple technically replaced them, choosing deckchairs a little to the left and a couple of rows in front of where the family had been. They dumped their items on the deckchair before striding down to the sea, hopping in without a moment's hesitation and swimming away with strong strokes. They'd stay out there for a couple of hours at a time, treating the sea almost like a giant swimming pool, running laps and on one occasion timing each other on how far they could go in a set amount of time.

Allison last saw them a day before she was due to end her shore leave, depart from Isuss, and return to the Alliance. For the typical person, watching them would have been exhausting; for Allison, it was more a distraction than anything, a reminder that she had been neglecting some of her workout routine while on shore leave. She wasn't _meant_ to, but she had a good routine going for her, one which she struggled to get back into the habit of after long neglect. Five days was hardly long, but it was more than Allison had felt comfortable with - even one day without going through her routine got her on edge.

For the remainder of her time on Isuss, Allison worked on getting herself back into her routine, checking and double-checking her items and packing them early so that the moment she needed to, she could pick up her bag and the last of her belongings and make her way back to the Alliance.

Some people might have been content at being at the beach for shore leave, but she most certainly hadn't.


	59. Chocolate

**059. Chocolate**

_Date: October 2175_

Allison frowned to herself and back-tracked a couple of steps, looking over at the store front. For the past couple of visits to Arcturus, it had been empty, a lone 'for rent' sign plastered over the windows. Now, instead, those signs had been replaced with bright, cheery, 'now open for business' signs. The signs also advertised an opening special of a discount of ten percent of everything in store, and Allison shrugged to herself and opened the door.

The doors were, rather bizarrely, made to look like old fashioned wooden doors one opened by hand, but still utilised current technology. Thankfully, the also old fashioned bell chime she expected to hear didn't appear, and Allison stepped away from the door.

She glanced across the store - it was an exceedingly tiny and narrow shop, but it was almost two-thirds filled with people, almost all of them in some kind of military dress. The bright lights above seemed to be absorbed by all the dark wood on the shelves, small clear packages with writing in small script dotted everywhere. People jostled each other gently, hands reaching and picking up items, turning them over, inspecting them, deciding whether they should go back on the shelf or into the small baskets some people were carrying.

Allison pressed forwards, glancing along the shelves. The chocolate was sectioned off by flavour and chocolate type - white & fruit; milk & fruit; dark & fruit; nutty; alcoholic; white; caramel; milk; dark; seasonal. She glanced over the pricing, wincing at it, but looks back at some of the other customers no one seemed to notice, picking up more items and moving along.

Allison picked up one at random, glancing down at the packaging to read what it said. _Blueberry Truffle x6 - soft cream with blueberry juice in white chocolate_. She moved along, seeing a small chocolate block and picked that up. _Caramel chocolate._ Again, she moved along, glancing between the shelves of products and the two items she was holding in her hand. There were some Halloween-themed chocolates as well, the majority in the shape of pumpkins and vampires, most in some kind of garish orange shade, and a lot seemingly flavoured with orange.

"May I help you?"

Allison snapped around, looking down at the woman who had spoken. She had a plain black shirt on with the words _Elysian Fields Chocolate_ on it, a wide smile on her face, and a small tray with chocolates on it balanced in her hand. "Care for a sample? House speciality seventy percent dark."

Allison glanced back down at her hands, one pack of chocolate in each, and shuffled them so she had one hand free. She grabbed one of the chocolates, a small round disc, and thanked the woman. The woman nodded, departing with a "if you need help, please ask" and moving along to another person in the store.

Allison popped the chocolate into her mouth and moved on, mind elsewhere. It was only when the intensity of the chocolate hit her taste buds that she paused and reconsidered her thoughts on the prices.

_Yeah, all right, maybe it is worth the cost_.

Allison scoured through the store again, picking out a few more chocolate selections that appealed to her. There were many more than she felt happy with buying, but considering the number of times she stopped by Arcturus, if the chocolate she'd picked up was anywhere near like the samples given, she'd be stopping by very often.

The woman at the till was the same one who'd offered the sample to Allison, and gave a knowing smile as she started to scan the purchases. The samples were a dirty trick, she knew, but it was one that worked exceptionally well. Allison had her purchases paid for and bagged up, and with a quick smile and thanks in return, Allison manoeuvred her way out of the shop.

Allison paused a short distance away from the store, glancing back down into her bag. She'd only purchased four packs, any more seeming both extravagant given the price and unnecessary given the limited space she had. She closed the bag and moved on, scanning through the other stores in the vicinity. The sector Elysian Fields had set up shop in was small, mostly comprised of shops selling the essentials someone getting off a months-long tour might need.

She had no more need to really be out shopping, and her ship would be departing soon. With one last glance around to make sure she didn't need anything, she turned and headed back to the ship.

[ - ]

Within a couple of weeks, as Allison was finishing off the last of the chocolate she had bought, she determined that Elysian Fields was definitely going to become a must-visit place for her whenever she swung by Arcturus. She'd also gotten a couple of other people interested in the chocolate, but it wasn't her fault that it started with a curious "what's that?", progressed to "caramel chocolate, huh?", to "can I try some", to silence as they tasted it, to "that is really good", to "where can I buy some" to, any length of time from a few days to a few weeks later, someone coming back and complaining that Allison was going to bankrupt them. Like it was her fault that Elysian Fields produced delicious chocolate that was costly but well worth the expense and trip to buy it.

Before too long, any people who talked to Allison while she had chocolate out made plans to visit Elysian Fields and the arrival of an Alliance vessel Allison was stationed on at Arcturus was almost inevitably followed by a small group of people heading straight for the chocolate shop. Sometimes Allison went with them, sometimes she had other work to do or other places to visit, and on one memorable occasion, when someone asked Allison what was so much more important, the deadpan response of "my mother, Captain Shepard" was both enough to silence the person in shock, and also bring up the fact that people didn't realise they were related.

But Elysian Fields always remained her favourite store on Arcturus.


	60. Fireworks

A/N: I know in ME1 Ashley says no big deal is made out of Armistice Day but personally I find that a little bizarre. So, this goes against canon knowledge.

**060. Fireworks**

_Date: August 2181_

Allison sighed softly to herself as she stood on the balcony, flute half-filled with champagne in her right hand, fancy bracelet on her left hand. Necklace on, matching earrings, make-up that had been meticulously applied with her mother giving an approving look once she'd finished her work. A nice formal dress, as opposed to Dress Blues, but in almost the same shade of blue as the uniform was. Hannah had given Allison an exasperated look when Allison had shown her, but reluctantly admitted that the colour suited Allison.

Allison had been awake for thirty-seven hours, but she had yet to feel any symptoms of exhaustion. She'd been called over to Arcturus for a formal recognition of her new status as an N7 operative - mostly secretive although she had met a few prior graduates, and had given a smile of recognition to Captain Anderson when they'd met. She'd asked how things were going; he'd enquired after her mother but declined her request to accompany her back to Earth to meet Hannah, saying that he had some pressing matters to discuss. He'd contact the two of them at a later date, he'd said, and Allison had left it at that.

She'd caught a shuttle from Arcturus to Earth, still in her Dress Blues and getting a couple of odd looks as she slipped in with her sea bag. She'd been granted leave from _Warsaw_ after the ceremony, and with her mother on leave on Earth, it was as good a time as any to catch up.

If she had known she would have been stuffed into a formal event for a ceremony to mark the end of the First Contact War, she would have declined as politely as she could. Instead, she was leaning against the balcony wall, looking out across the concrete jungle of London. The Alliance had rented out a couple of floors on the building for the event, laying out food and drink and also bringing in a live band for music and entertainment. Allison herself had been paraded around for a good while, making nice with various Alliance reps she didn't know, and chatting more amicably with those she did.

"Allison." The word was accompanied by the sound of the sliding doors closing, and Allison held a breath. "It's cold out here, what are you doing?"

Allison looked at the rest of her champagne, debating between continuing to sip it or whether to down what she had left and escape to get another one before conversation could really start up. She decided against it - she'd need too much alcohol to get drunk, not to mention the tell-tale blue glow she'd get.

Instead, she turned to face her mother. No mask present, no apparent ranks between them, just mother and daughter talking.

"I just had to step outside for a bit." Allison added a small smile at the end, and it seemed to be disarming enough. Hannah stepped forwards, her Dress Blues neatly primmed and a glass of champagne in her hand as well.

"Too many people?"

Allison laughed, then took a sip of her champagne. "Ironic, isn't it? I've spent my _life_ on ships, no expectation of personal space, but that..." Allison faltered, waving a hand back to the inside. "I find it hard to deal."

"Your father's the same," Hannah said, swirling her glass around. "It's the main reason he's not here tonight. Never attends these events. He has other reasons as well, ones that aren't as...well received."

Allison frowned, turning back to look out to London as her mother took a sip of the champagne. "Like what other reasons?"

"He doesn't think it's appropriate to make this into a celebration, and I think he's right."

Allison snapped back. "The First Contact War _helped_ us. Without it, we wouldn't have known about the other races."

"You weren't there, sweetheart. It was...chaos. Remembered, yes. Celebrated?" Hannah looked back to the inside of the building, and Allison followed her gaze. Inside, people - all humans - mingled and chatted, occasionally going for food or requesting another drink. All were happy.

"This is fast becoming a simple party for people, forgetting why it's being remembered in lieu of free alcohol." Hannah scowled, and downed the rest of her drink, leaving an empty glass dangling between her fingers. She closed her eyes and a few seconds later her expression turned neutral, looking back at Allison. "I heard through the brass that you received your N7 qualification a few hours ago."

"Yeah." Allison settled a little. "A small private ceremony, pretty much a few people noting my achievements."

"Was David there?"

Allison nodded. "He was. Asked after you, in fact. Invited him to come along here but he declined. I think I can guess why."

"If David doesn't share my views, he doesn't comment on it." Hannah gave a low, mirthless chuckle. "If it weren't for the fact that they want some of the people who fought in the First Contact War, I wouldn't be here at all." Hannah moved to the edge of the balcony, placing the empty glass on the top of the half wall. Allison followed, placing her glass alongside.

A few minutes of silence stretched between them, Allison casting another look out across London. They weren't in Central London, but a section off to the west, near to the old theatre district, somewhere that was guaranteed to be more peaceful than the centre of the city.

A faint bang caught Allison's attention, and she turned in time to see a flash of light accompanying a second bang. More followed, the fireworks streaming out across the city in varying shapes and colours; the other balcony areas that had been empty filled up with people as word spread that they were going off, nudging Allison and Hannah into a small corner of the balcony they had stepped out onto. Allison had grabbed her glass, sipping champagne as she watched the show; Hannah had reclaimed her empty class, simply looking out towards the show.

Once it was over and everyone else had dispersed, Hannah moved forwards. She raised her glass, Allison following suit, and Hannah lightly tapped her glass against her daughter's.

"To Allison. N7 special ops marine. My daughter. You're doing us proud."

Allison smiled faintly. "Thanks, Mum."


	61. Blaze

**061. Blaze**

_Date: July 2170_

To say the air was blue around a biotic would mean something completely different to them. Biotic usage turned the air blue, a mix between the dark corona manipulating gravity fields, and the fact that the eyes of human biotics turned blue not because of biotics affecting their iris, but because the corona enveloped them as well. It gave everything an odd blue tinge that Allison was still trying to get used to, months later.

Allison relaxed her stance, her corona disappearing, and she turned to look at Teria. The asari was young, as asari went, around a hundred and fifty years old. Training to become part of the asari military, she'd told Allison, and was now instead stuck training a baby how to use biotics.

Teria's words, not Allison's.

Teria snorted as Allison stood back up straight, shaking her head. Whatever Allison had done, it hadn't been to Teria's standards; still, Allison knew she hadn't done something wrong, as the asari had made it very clear when Allison didn't match up with her expectations.

Teria motioned for Allison to repeat what she'd done; Allison hid a scowl and moved back to her prior position, working through the motions of a mnemonic as Teria watched on, expression completely blank. Even if Allison had been an expert at reading asari facial expressions, she would have had extreme difficulty determining what Teria was thinking.

Teria stood still as Allison worked through the mnemonics, occasionally stepping in to adjust an elbow or a foot before letting Allison continue on. After a few repeated motions, Teria grudgingly moved Allison onto the next mnemonic, and Teria began to look back at the clock more and more as the time ticked towards five.

"We're done for today," Teria said a little after five. After a momentary pause to collect the belongings she'd brought with her, Teria slipped out the front door of the prefab.

[ - ]

Allison envied some of the asari she'd seen on the training vids. They knew how to use their biotics easily and without effort, fighting with a multitude of techniques. Allison could watch and note off a few types of attacks - biotic throws, lifts, slams, pulls. Still more she couldn't identify or give names to, either due to the advanced techniques they used or the fact that they moved so fast Allison couldn't see what attack had taken their opponent down.

Probably the favourite technique she saw used again and again was one that summoned a blaze of blue corona. Biotics would dash across in the blink of an eye, moving across a couple of metres to their opponent, slamming right into them and either following up with another biotic technique or more standard bullets from a gun.

Teria had snorted at Allison when she'd asked about it, stating that it required more biotic ability than humans were able to muster. Teria had let slip that it was quite a difficult technique to begin with, and when Allison had received silence on the question of whether Teria could do it was answer enough.

The fact that Teria didn't overly want to be teaching Allison was evident and a curiosity to Allison, but what was more a curiosity was how her parents had arranged for Teria to come and teach her to begin with. It wasn't like Teria was an older human biotic, with knowledge and experience; they were two different species with two different life expectancies and two completely unrelated way of nurturing biotic potential. Asari were pretty much all naturally biotic, no implants and amps; humanity was just fumbling its way through with no firm ideas or direction in which to work things through.

[ - ]

Allison poured over yet more of the training vids Teria had left her. The asari had stated that Allison was at the limits of her teaching capacity and needed to learn on her own, although whether that was the truth or just Teria getting bored of being stuck in a prefab teaching a teenage human was unknown. Teria had left almost all of the instruction materials she'd used with Allison, an off-hand comment about using them well.

Allison paused the training vid just as the asari on it moved into a mnemonic, a corona already enveloping her. Allison studied the position, the movements, and placed the data pad on the grass. She stood up and moved into a similar position, checking her comfort with it. Returning to a neutral pose, she played the rest of the training vid, the asari running through the rest of the motions of a lift mnemonic.

Her corona flared to life, and she moved through the mnemonic. She didn't manipulate the gravity fields in front of her, instead stepping through the motions a few more times until she was happy with how the movements flowed. Teria had made comments about energy and feeling nodes activating, but on a blank look from Allison one time too many Teria had sighed and told Allison to forget it.

Allison moved through the mnemonic one last time, this time manipulating gravity slightly ahead of her. She'd brought out random items, varying sizes and shapes, and scattered them around for target practise. She focused on a data pad, lifting it up into the air, frowning and concentrating as she balanced the momentum she was forcing it up with the feel of gravity around her. Eventually, gravity overcame Allison's efforts at the data pad fell back to the grass.

Allison flicked back down to the data pad beside her; she skipped the next few videos, pausing as one showed an asari moving across the field in a blink. Biotic Charge, Teria had called it. Advanced asari technique - all biotic knowledge was asari, being the only race that was naturally biotic. Even knowing that she had nowhere near the potential, she was still fascinated by it. Looking at the training vid, it seemed almost effortless - no visible mnemonic, they'd just be in one place before moving across in a blaze of blue to an enemy combatant.

Allison just wished humanity knew more than it did about biotics.


	62. Space

**062. Space**

_Date: August 2172_

Allison hung back as the rest of the recruits moved through to their first ship-side posting. They'd been notified two weeks ago where everyone was going, and the excitement for some to be venturing out into space was at unbelievable levels. Barely anyone who had gotten a ship-side posting had cared about which ship they had been assigned to, whereas Allison had looked down the list with a scrutinising eye, ignoring her name in lieu of being partly curious and partly nosy as to which ships were going to be taking in new boot camp graduates.

Allison noted that she'd been on the same fleet as a quarter of the ships listed, and knew a further half of them by name. The last quarter were pretty unknown to her, but that wasn't a surprise - the fleets were made up of hundreds of ships, and not even a spacer kid could know the names of all of them.

The enthusiasm some people had about their ship-side postings was infectious, and those who didn't seem that bothered about snagging a ship-side posting off the bat eventually relented. Stories started to be traded, those who were scheduled to be posted on the same ship drawing together and forming bonds - better to walk into a new situation with someone who would be in a similar position.

News of Allison being a spacer kid soon spread around, and people came to ask her thoughts on ships. Those she didn't know, she couldn't say anything on that someone else didn't already knew; those she'd heard the names of had her give more information than others had; those she had more knowledge of she was drilled for any information mercilessly, everyone wanting to know everything from the layout of the ship right down to what the food and crew quarters were like even if Allison said for the fifth time that she didn't know.

Allison's first ship-side assignment was on the frigate _SSV Trafalgar_ - a frigate assigned to the Third Fleet, and she was the only recruit from Macapá to be assigned there. _Trafalgar_ was one of the unknowns to Allison, a ship she'd neither been in the same fleet as, nor a ship she'd heard of. She knew of the battle it was named after, but nothing else. The Third Fleet was one of the few fleest she hadn't set foot on - Second and Fifth being the most common, but she'd been on at least one ship in the First, Fourth, and Seventh fleets over the past eighteen years. She'd never been on the Third, Sixth, and Eighth fleets, but with her assignment it looked like she could scratch off another fleet on her list.

"So," Amil said one morning, one of a low number left before they officially finished boot camp and shipped out. He slipped into the seat next to Allison, nudging his tray right up against hers. "Looking forward to your assignment?"

"Not really." Allison looked down at the grey mush in front of her. She grimaced before shovelling another spoonful down her throat. Did boot camp get the rejects of ship food or something? Demoralise them before they even got boots down on ground or on ships?

"Come on, aren't you even the least bit excited?" Allison glanced over at Amil, a disbelieving look on her face as he wolfed down his food.

"Considering I've lived in space all my life...no." Allison prodded her food again, and sighed. She mimicked Amil and began to eat it hurriedly, paying no attention to the taste or texture. She slowed once the grey mush disappeared, and considered her next sentence. "What about you? Annoyed at your groundside posting?"

"Nah." Amil finished off his food, his spork clattering onto the tray. "Truth be told I'd be happy to get anywhere so long as it's out of here."

Allison snorted, a grin on her face. "Oh, trust me, there are worse places than here." She paused, considering. No good scaring him off with the stories she'd overheard on ships over the years. "At least this place is quiet."

"Can't say much about the food."

Allison gave a half-hearted shrug. "'M a biotic. After a while, crap food like this tends to lose all meaning and just becomes fuel." Allison moved onto the next lump on her tray and prodded it. "Fuel of undiscernable and questionable origin, but fuel none the less."

Amil smiled. "Sure, Shepard. Catch you before we leave? I'd hate to leave Earth without chatting to you one last time."

"Sure." Allison didn't look up as Amil grabbed his tray and walked off. Before too long, someone else came in and sat near her, soft mumbles drifting across the length of the table.

[ - ]

Three days later, the first of the grads were shipped out. Ground postings were easier to coordinate and so they were the first to go, Amil included. He'd been assigned out on Elysium, and despite assurances from everyone else Allison had given him a quick chat and a mention of 'be careful'. Being posted out in the Skyllian Blitz wasn't as bad as being sent out into the Terminus Systems, but it was still a dangerous area. Amil had laughed at her and told her not to worry, and instead wished her luck on her own posting.

The ship-side grads were two days after, with those heading for dreadnaughts and cruisers moving out first. The numbers dwindled quickly, people assigned to the same ship moving out in groups of twos and threes and fours. A few people had been assigned to carriers, all disappointed at being assigned to a 'non-combat' class of ships.

Allison was one of the last to leave, her transfer to the _SSV Trafalgar_ finally coming through on the last batch. She left with two other people, sharing a shuttle all the way through to Gagarin Station, and splitting up from there.

Allison spent the whole transport glued to the observation window, getting some odd looks from the other two grads. She didn't care; the moment the shuttle broke atmo and started to fly across the vast expanse of space, Allison let out a relieved sigh. Three months on planet wasn't too long, all things considered, but she had been forced there, unable to leave. Now she was back in space, back home, and things started to feel right again.


	63. Music

**063. Music**

_Date: August 2176_

Allison kept her head bent low, occasionally moving along to the beat of the music that was moving through her auditory emulators. Her omni-tool glowed a faint orange as she huddled over her pistol, breaking it down into its composite parts and inspecting it all thoroughly. Ammo supply still plentiful, thankfully, although a couple more messy and chaotic assignments and she'd need to make sure she had a spare pack on her. She took the ammo out of the pistol and placed it in front of her.

With the workbench in front of her filled with piles of random weapon parts, plus the ammo she'd just put there, Allison moved a part from her hand and lightly gripped it in her teeth as she worked around. She tossed out her high calibre barrel mod, picking out a moderately-specced rail extension mod instead and slotted it in. She raised the pistol up to one of the lights, turning the weapon over in her hand, checking for the look of it as well as the weight and distribution of mass. When satisfied with how it looked and felt, she lowered the pistol and continued working on it, slotting its component parts back into place. She raised it up to eye level and looked down the sight down the armory section of the ship. All looked fine, balanced, and wouldn't jam up on her at an unexpected moment.

Allison opened up her pistol again, slotting the ammo block back in. She stood up, safety on the pistol, and placed it in her weapons locker. Ready for a groundside mission...whenever that would be. Allison closed her locker and paused, hand resting on the top of it. Her leg was fully healed now, no discernible difference between her and one of the tens of ground crew on the _Emden_; if she hadn't gotten back to full functionality within two months, she would have been both suspicious and concerned. But now she was, and the CO, XO, and everyone else in charge of the ship seemed to be determined to keep her off ground crew for as long as they possibly could.

[ - ]

Allison made a half-hearted greeting to Jensen as she walked into the mess and picked up her food, music still streaming in via her omni-tool. It had switched in from playing neutral songs as a background while she worked on her weapons, to songs with more of an up-beat tempo. She dialled down the volume a little as she ate mechanically, slipping out almost unnoticed once she'd finished her meal.

With practically nothing to do, Allison turned a corner and headed up to the CIC, sweeping around some of the technicians as they headed to and from the mess. As the doors hissed open, she immediately moved around to port and huddled down in a small corner of the CIC to watch.

On all the ships she'd been on, the CIC was one of the few places she hadn't been able to visit before she signed up for the Alliance. The main reason was civilians not being allowed on military ships, and children of military enlists, NCOs, and officers were highly discouraged from visiting on active ships. The other, when on ships she was allowed to be on, was that the CIC was effectively the war room and they did not want anyone untrained in there at all.

The sight of the galaxy map was still a mesmerising one, even after four years of ship-side postings. She'd seen courses plotted than ran from jumping from one secondary relay to another across half a kilo-parsec in the blink of an eye, to running into the tens of kilo-parsecs, jumping across a quarter of the galaxy in the span of a few minutes.

Allison leaned against the bulkhead, loading up her omni-tool and flicking through the songs she had listed. She'd picked up numerous songs over the years, supplementing her parents' collections with her own when she got old enough, adding and removing and changing the songs she kept on a regular basis. After Elysium, she'd done a thorough scrub of her collection, cutting it down to around a thousand from the almost ten thousand she'd had previously, being very critical as to what she kept and what she put into storage. She'd also scanned through for some new songs, selectively adding those that she had been wanting for a while - because screw it, if she deserved a little something to herself, it was after holding off a batarian slaver raid.

She began to tap a foot against the floor as a deep, thumping bass line started up, and she dialled down the music just in case; she didn't want to risk a call out for her just because she needed to listen to something other than the sounds of the ship.

Allison glanced towards the bow, noting the bridge technicians moving around, passing along data pads of information. Further up ahead, the two pilots were in the cockpit, heads glancing left and right, occasional comments from one drawing the attention of the other before getting back to their tasks.

"Shepard."

Allison glanced over, turning her head and stopping the music almost in the same instant. "Yana, hey. You wanting something?"

The other woman folded her arms and stared down at Allison. They'd both been assigned to the _Emden_ at the same time, both ranked as Corporals, but Allison's quick promotion to Service Chief after Elysium had soured the other woman's attitude to Allison even more.

"Captain's looking for you, says it's urgent."

"Huh." Allison pushed off from the bulkhead, Yana moving backwards so quickly she collided with one of the CIC officers as he dashed past her. Allison had seen the collision and stayed where she was, watching as Yana apologised before turning a glare back to Allison.

"I'd better move it, Shepard."

Allison scowled. "I outrank you, _Corporal_ _Sato_. I appreciate you giving me the message; you can resume usual duties now."

"Yes, ma'am." The comment, as was the salute, was given grudgingly before Yana walked off. Allison kept her gaze levelled with Yana as she walked out of the CIC before moving off herself.


	64. Snowstorm

**064. Snowstorm**

_Date: May 2167_

Snow crunched underneath Allison's boots, drawing up a muttered half-curse from her with each step. Her father had been horrified the most recent time she'd let out a curse, asking where she'd heard that language; Allison had responded that she'd overheard it from some of the marines when on leave, from some programmes she was watching, and some songs she'd downloaded. Who did he want to blame?

Her foot crunched down on snow, slipping underneath her. Allison stretched out her arms immediately and instinctively, wind milling them to try and keep her balance. After a second, her movement stopped and she was able to regain her very precarious balance. She moved on again, keeping her head bowed - most kids at the boarding school had been ecstatic to see snow falling from the sky, piling up on the ground, but Allison had been unenthused. It was snowing; so what?

She slipped again, this time not bothering to mutter her thoughts on the weather. She still had a way to go back to her dorm, and it was in a full snow-covered path. Even attempts to venture off the path onto the grass hadn't helped; people had either had the same idea and compacted the snow down to ice, or they'd scooped up as much snow as they could to make snowmen and start up snowball fights, again leaving only ice to slip on.

"Hey, Shepard, watch out!"

The warning came seconds too late as barely a moment after the person had finished speaking, a mass of snow hit the back of Allison's head. She whirled around as best as she could, aiming to glare over at the person who'd thrown it and cow them into not doing it again.

Instead, she slipped as she turned, falling backwards and cracking her head against the icy path.

[ - ]

Allison came to looking at the white ceiling of a local hospital, with no immediate recollection of the event that landed her in the hospital in the first place. She bolted upright, pulling against some medical equipment that was strapped to her and causing it to rattle. The small room she was in barely held the bed, the medical equipment, a sink and an uncomfortable looking plastic chair.

The door to the small room opened, a female nurse with her hair in a high, tight bun striding through. She seemed completely unsurprised by the fact that Allison was awake and moving; in all likelihood one of the machines Allison was hooked up to had told her.

"Lay back," the nurse said, pulling out a penlight after Allison settled. The nurse flicked the light across Allison's eyes, checking responses. After a few minutes the nurse pulled back and pocketed the penlight.

"What happened?"

The nurse fiddled with a data pad before responding. "You slipped on the snow and hit your head. One of your school friends called for an ambulance for you."

Allison frowned. "I don't...I just remember walking back after class."

The nurse put down the data pad. "That's not unexpected. How is your memory from before the accident?"

"Crystal clear." Allison moved into a sitting position and folded her hands in her lap. "I don't remember anything from someone hitting me with a snowball to waking up here."

The nurse moved forwards. "Any nausea? Visual blurring?"

Allison shook her head, wincing when a jolt of pain lanced through. She pressed a hand up to her head. "No."

"Hmm. Nothing showed up on scans. Still..." The nurse loaded up her omni-tool and scanned across Allison's head. "No, you're all registering as normal. We'll keep you in here for a couple of hours under observation; if no other symptoms occur, you'll be discharged."

[ - ]

The nurse was true to her word, and a few hours later Allison was back in her dorm room. She'd been given some over the counter painkillers and a list of instructions of what to look out for, and also for her roommate to look out for. Allison had chucked the painkillers onto her small bedside table before sitting down on her bed and looking out of the window.

The clouds were still grey and murky, threatening a promise of yet more snow to come. The common paths between the dorms and the classrooms had been compacted down to nothing but ice, and everyone was taking care to avoid any well-worn paths.

With a mutter to herself, Allison unzipped her school bag and pulled out a couple of data pads. She'd overheard chatter while at the medical centre that the staff there fully expected more snow later that day, and for classes to be cancelled if that was the case. Third time that year that they'd remarked, although the previous two times were before Allison had transferred over. A blustery, snowy colony, Ashur's weather seemed to be either 'clear' or 'snowstorm' with no compromise, and in the three months there Allison had seen too much snow for her liking.

She almost hated being old enough to be considered responsible enough to stay on her own, shuffled to a boarding school close to the fleet depot Dominick was operating out of. Allison had no problem with the school itself - specifically for spacer kids it was a small but tight-knit community, and one of her teachers had been specifically assigned as a tutor, as well as being introduced to the school psychologist.

Not that they thought any of the kids at the school needed one, but because of the jobs their parents had, it was better to have someone on hand in case bad news filtered through. The jobs the kids' parents had ranged all the way from mess hall cooks and janitorial staff up the chain of command to ship commanding officers and a couple of children of Admirals.

The door to the dorm hissed open, and Allison glanced up.

"Hey, Alli. How you doing?"

"I dunno. What does the bump on my head say?"

Kelly dumped her own bag and slid off her snow-covered coat, hanging the coat on the rack and frowning as the snow started to quickly turn to water and drip down. She turned to grab a towel from the shared bathroom when she paused, eyes focused on the window.

Allison turned to follow her gaze, and saw huge fat snowflakes drifting down outside the window. She groaned to herself, falling carefully back onto the bed.

"I _hate_ snow."


	65. Nosebleed

**065. Nosebleed**

_Date: December 2182_

Allison kept a firm grip on her pistol as she ran through the jungle-packed ground. Her feet kept her moving on autopilot even as the sweat started to steam up her visor, obscuring her vision, and her muscles began to protest from the continued movement.

She'd lost track of time on the tidally-locked planet, going radio silent less than thirty minutes after landing on it. It had been uncharted, largely unknown with only a basic official name assignment of EK-0573-B and a brief description of its attributes from probe telemetry. Unbreathable atmosphere made up of thirty percent carbon dioxide, fifty-five percent nitrogen, and a scant twelve percent oxygen, the other three percent made up of varying other gasses. The combination of CO2 levels, proximity to the system's star, and it being tidally locked was a deadly combination in terms of surface temperature.

They'd skirted around some prefabs, noting life signatures in there barely a minute before multiple cluster bombs tore through, obliterating everything within reach. The shrapnel from the explosion had flown out, hitting Behlmer and Kuza in varying places; medi-gel, suit patches, and their own medex systems had gotten them back onto their feet within a matter of minutes.

Allison paused, feet skidding slightly on the slick mud. A wash of blue covered her vision and a quick movement knocked back some of the trees, clearing the way for the people behind her. Allison's corona disappeared and she moved on, readjusting the grip on her pistol.

Her omni-tool fed the tracking information into her HUD, her omni-tool itself online but in standby mode, a weak orange glow around her wrist the only indication that it was active. The tracker was still pointing to her ten, no matter the distance she closed down, but she was grudgingly happy that the distance _was_ decreasing.

Allison hit another thicket of trees, and again her corona flared to life. She pushed past them, dropping her corona as she did so and did her best to ignore the warm liquid that was now starting to drip down her nose and run down across her lips.

She kept her mind focused again, keeping her legs moving. They'd seen this person - whoever it was, even Allison couldn't discern their species from the distance they'd spotted them at - not long after the cluster bomb explosion. Either someone who was involved with setting the bomb, or someone linked to those in the prefabs, they needed to find them and question what was going on.

She and five other N7 qualified Alliance soldiers, chasing down what seemed like a ghost.

Allison shoved another section of vegetation back with her biotics, the drip of blood turning into a trickle and beginning to smear against her lips. She fought back the urge to lick it away and instead passed her pistol to her left hand. With her now-free right hand she accessed her omni-tool and dialled in a few commands, adjusting the suit's system to start delivering more sugars into her blood stream. She double checked her ration packs - still enough for her to last another day on the planet at normal consumption rates; if she was careful, she could stretch that out over to two, especially if she relied more on her internal IV system. A risky game, but it was one she was willing to play.

Allison turned her omni-tool back to standby and moved her pistol back to her right hand. She'd kept moving throughout all of her studied, and her eyes flicked back to the upper right corner. The topography map of the area was starting to show high ridges and steep valleys, narrowing the movable area to a thin band of green. Further away, a red dot blipped steadily, showing the position of their goal. They were starting to close in on the runaway guest; three miles down and slowly gaining.

Behlmer circled around to Allison's left as she moved forwards, slowly and steadily. The person they were chasing had stopped down by a small river stream; with the low oxygen she doubted anyone would want to chance taking a helmet off for a drink. She was right when the person wandered down, looked left and right, and moved back up the riverbank.

A flash of light appeared from the far forest; Forcey had gotten into position. Another from Behlmer towards Forcey, and Allison caught the edge of another glimmer, that one from Forcey to Behlmer. Allison lifted up her own section of reflective material, flashing messages back towards them.

Zamaff moved downwind from Allison, looking over and checking the scope on his sniper rifle. He had a hardened face, expression pulled into a scowl or look of scorn when neutral; one of the first graduates of the N7 training programme, he seemed to have earned every level with a corresponding scar. He fixed his sniper rifle into position, tracking the movements of their target. When their target slipped back into the dense jungle, Zamaff moved to signal Forcey; after a corresponding message back, he shifted his sniper rifle over closer to where their target had disappeared into the jungle.

Allison stayed where she was; her pistol re-holstered ages ago, shotgun compacted and on her back, the unfamiliar weight of a sniper rifle next to it. She'd avoided fully kitting out and weighing herself down with an assault rifle, but the inclusion of a sniper rifle on everyone's back was something that Zamaff refused to budge on.

A flash came from Forcey's prior position; Kuza had apparently taken over signalling duty. Zamaff watched the signals before shifting and standing up. He glanced over at Allison, then back to his sniper rifle before he picked it up.

Message clear: scope out this place while I investigate.

Allison moved over as Zamaff moved off into the jungle, extending her sniper rifle and positioning it carefully. She looked down the sight, checking the calibrations and distance recordings, and settled herself in.

Within a couple of minutes, their target backed right out of the forest, heading straight for the river once more. Allison traced their movements, holding her breath as she kept her gun steady. When their target was almost at the river, she let out the breath moments before she took the shot.


	66. Candy

**066. Candy**

_Date: February 2177_

Rule one of mess hall dining:

If it was in the mess hall, it was fair game to everyone. On occasion, it almost ended up like a game - how long could a new enlist choose to keep their treasured food there before they started to wonder why it was disappearing, _realised_ why, and moved it elsewhere.

Allison had learned many years ago to keep anything she didn't want to share with her other personal belongings. The same habits routinely appeared on civilian ships in the fleet, or in a few of the boarding schools she'd been at - nothing out of maliciousness, but the assumption that if it was in a public space, it was for everyone. Anything precious to you was carefully hidden away and held close, and it was considered quite an honour to be offered something from someone else's private stash.

Unfortunately, it was a lesson that Serviceman Third Class Kolf still had yet to learn. Allison watched out of the corner of her eyes as he muttered and cursed and stomped around looking for whatever they'd placed in the mess. As he moved around Allison turned her attention to the tea and small pile of sweets in front of her.

"Where have you been hiding yours?" Kolf said, standing in front of her, arms by his side but hands half-clenched. Allison took another sip of her tea before answering.

"In my sea bag." Allison turned her attention away from Kolf and back down to her tea. She waited as Kolf turned back to the almost-empty cupboards and cursed out some more; eventually he stormed off, and Allison took the opportunity of an empty mess to finish off the sweets she had been eating and rinse out her cup.

She bypassed Kolf by the crew quarters; through the open door she could see him pull out his sea bag and search through, but with a few muttered curses he shoved it back underneath the bunk.

[ - ]

It still took a couple of weeks for Kolf to remember not to leave personal food in the mess, and on a couple of occasions Allison was present when muttered curses echoed around yet again. He continued to question people, asking where they'd gotten or kept whatever they had, and no one while Allison was there seemed to have the guts to hold their hands up and say "yeah, sorry, it was me. I thought it was for anyone". Everyone told a tale similar to Allison - private stash, private hauls, careful to only take to the mess what they wanted and leave nothing unless they were okay with it being taken. A couple of occasions some packs of food close to their expiry date had been left out, and within a couple of days there was usually only a box left.

There was only three things Allison had that she fiercely defended - her tea (a mix of various blends that were difficult to get outside of main trading routes, Arcturus, and Jump Zero), her chocolate (Elysian Fields packs which were incredibly expensive), and her sweets. Not that her sweets were particularly rare, unusual, or expensive, she just didn't like the idea of sharing them. Mostly, they were emergency stock - some slipped into a pouch in her armour, or a hastened journey to the crew quarters after a mission. A quick sugar infusion when she overused her biotics.

"Watch it," Allison said, batting away a hand that came perilously close to one of her sweets. When they tried again, Allison grabbed them around the wrist, twisting slightly and looking up.

Rozenn was leaning over her, amused look on her face. She was in her mid-thirties but on a number of occasions didn't act it, with black hair, brown eyes, dark skin.

Rozenn grinned at Allison, slipping into one of the nearby empty seats as Allison let go. When seated, Rozenn tried for another grab towards Allison's sweets but again she was thwarted in her attempts.

"Damn, you really don't like sharing them, do you?"

Allison swept the last of the sweets into her hand, gently rolling them around. "Nope." Allison tossed one into her mouth and looked over at Rozenn. "You still getting off at next port?"

"Yup." Rozenn stretched her arms above her head before relaxing down. "Three years of service, debt paid to the Alliance. Time for them to hold up their end and get me into that deferred education thing."

Allison gave Rozenn a smile. "Not gonna miss this place?"

"Nah. Well, maybe some of the people."

"Any people in particular?"

"Well..." Rozenn pretended to carefully look around the mess. Only the barest scattering of people were around with it being a quarter through second shift, but Rozenn still took her time looking over. Eventually, she returned her gaze to Allison, her face now neutral. "I can't seem to think of anyone I'd miss. Sorry to say." Rozenn followed that up with a brief shrug and made to stand up.

Allison let out a small laugh. "No one, Fusca?"

Rozenn sat back down. "Well...I might have known this one kid. Had family in the navy, joined up when she was eighteen. Biotic, too - imagine that, a human biotic. Raised a hell of a storm while on shore leave at Elysium. Those batarians picked a bad time and place to try and raid a human colony. Got awarded for it, too.

"But that's all the public stuff. Personally, she's just like the rest of us." Rozenn moved to stand up again, giving a light punch to Allison's shoulder. "Keep out for yourself, Shepard. And hey, send me a mail or something sometime, all right?"

"Sure." Allison watched Rozenn walk out of the mess before glancing back around her. No one had seemed to notice their conversation between them - not that what had been said was anything private - and Allison herself made to move. She brushed out of the mess just as Kolf walked in; for once, he didn't head straight for the cupboards to find his personal items and curse. Instead, he held something in his hand, a small pack. Allison noticed as she moved past him and gave a small nod.

Well, there was some hope for that one yet.


End file.
